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taegularities · 22 days

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meraki | jjk (m)

MERAKI (v., Greek). "to do something with soul, creativity, or love; to put something of yourself in your work." Summary: Jungkook finds you irritating; far too energetic and insistent. But his perception of you changes bit by bit, minute by minute, when he's persuaded into spending an entire night with you at places he doesn't know.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: e2l, grumpy!jk (+ photographer!jk) x sunshine!reader; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: bickering, bantering, jk is a bit rude at the beginning, flirting, tension, oc is bold and courageous, mention of someone being stoned, mention of insomnia, jk's lip rings <3, heights, not exactly e2l but more like "i find you pretty annoying" to lovers lmao, deep talks and sweet moments, one bed trope, guest appearance, jk takes pictures of pretty things, stars and sky talk <3, explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, implied pain kink? lol, fingering, manhandling, oral (f. & m. receiving), teasing, 69, spitting, one or two spanks, bit of choking, soft and hard sex, unprotected sex (oc has an iud), soft dom!jk but also glimpses of sub!jk, ofc biiiig dick!jk, doggy/riding/missionary, praises, more flirting, jk's godly body, masturbation, cum swallowing (he comes in her mouth); the lovely ending <3 ➳ word count: 26.6k <3 ➳ a/n: you guys built this fic!! 🥺 hopefully this is what we expected it to be. it's also yet another love letter to one of the gentlest men i know; happy birthday, jeon jungkook, you're the standard and i will never fall out of love with you 💕 i hope y'all enjoy it!! come and talk to me when you're done mwah <3

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs

1:04AM, Her

There’s a word for how you do what you do.

A term you hold dearly in the crevices of your bright heart. Ever since you first learned its meaning two decades ago, you’ve made it your primary goal to breathe through life with it as your philosophy.

Passion, it is. A word certainly common in conversation and daily life — you’re not the only person to live by it. Doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to wallow in it.

Because there’s a fire behind your hard-working chest, lit up, pride residing next to it. It’s where you feel the most vivid light when you do what you love, blooming and blossoming. There are synonyms of it you know, and each of them are pretty as a growing garden.

You gatekeep them for now; haven’t yet found a person to share your knowledge with. Which is okay; in the meantime, you’ll keep looking. You do think everybody needs something like this in their lives.

Something that forces your body upright, sprinkling fairy dust and glimmer into your eyes. Something you can resort to in order to escape the trials of life.

For you, as odd it may seem to people, it’s your job.

You usually work late like today, surrounded by sounds and disquiet. But you enjoy it. You like stepping into the night afterwards, and you like the dark blanket above, the starlight sprinkled across the comforting blackness.

And you like it when it drizzles sometimes. The giggles of couples or groups of friends as they wade through the rain. The absolute quiet and relieving serenity.

You live for this. You enjoy people. You enjoy sensing life around you.

Tonight isn’t different. Even when you find yourself hastening by the end, wrapping up the event with a dozen chores to tackle; even when the host rushes to you, asking for help. Your shoes click-clack across the floor as you move left and right, up and down.

But by God, you never doubt these days’ worth.

1:04AM, Him

Sometimes, people don’t want to be photographed.

Jungkook learned that early on when he agreed to be a photographer at events. He’s encouraged and urged to ask people to pose; that’s his job. Waiting for them to force a smile before they can resume eating, debone their fish or work on their lobsters, beef, veggies.

They long to return to whatever they were doing, or to their conversations, mostly insignificant ones; Jungkook knows because he, involuntarily, hears too many of them.

It’s only when they’re dancing or drinking that they open up. That’s when they’re okay with listening to him, obedient, almost as if he’s authority, staring into the lens with flushed cheeks and wide grins.

Though it’s irritating when every other person walks up to him afterwards, inquiring when they’d be receiving the photos, or, even ruder, if at all.

Today, there are a few more comfortable people around. Not as harsh, not as grim as he feels. You’re here, too, somewhere; of course you are — you got him here in the first place. Somehow, your paths often cross. You were ready for a picture immediately, drawn in by the host, smiling.

He perceived your presence just for a second, though. Doesn’t need or want any more than that. You’re too loud, too energetic anyway; he’s rather among himself, not in any photo, indulging in the job.

He loves clicking through his camera roll; it’s the people that tire him out. Working his way through the pictures he took once home gives him joy, though. Makes his fatigue feel worth it.

But God, you’re not the only one, right? So many people here are the same amount of enthusiastic, party people to the core.

Which is why he’s happy when the night finally concludes, and he, far after midnight, stuffs his equipment back into his bag and slips into his at least somewhat chic blazer.

1:12AM, Her

You groan as your hand dives into your bag, fishing out the key that you already removed from your keychain an hour ago. Back when the man facing you approached you; he’s the last face you see when you step out of the somewhat stuffy hall.

Or so you think.

You don’t know that the night is far from over when you linger at the entrance, handing him a key that he encloses in his grip with a grateful nod and a goodbye-wave. The final interaction when you excuse yourself, breathing in the night.

It’s a hunch cooler than when you left home today; yet, the breeze feels pleasant caressing your skin. The end of August is still warm, still fairly far from fall; you regard summer nights as the best part of the season.

Sighing, you come to a halt in the middle of the pavement, studying the alley. You ponder until you remember a bus not too far from here; you need to turn left, right? Should be there. You have never been around here before, so you’re not entirely sure.

But you’ll just go with your first instinct for now. Keep walking until you detect any kind of a promising sign. You hold onto your roomy bag as you pass the rare people still around.

Some of them are faces you recognise from the party; some are strangers. One couple you spoke to just earlier even lifts a thumbs up for you, praising you for the exceptional organisation. They make you feel at ease until the road quietens.

And the place stays serene and silent until you hear the clearing of somebody’s throat. It’s not near; yet not far. Your eyes scan the area, not for long when they recognise a figure sitting on the opposite side of the narrow street.

It’s a man, clutching a heavy object with careful hands. A camera, you know it immediately. He’s hunting through the pictures he took, face slightly lit by the screen. Jutting lower lip, slowly blinking eyes.

Simple attire — dark jeans, a white shirt, and a blazer on top that hides the wide shoulders.

Constantly and undeniably handsome, albeit always grim due to the lack of a smile.

You squint to confirm it’s him you’re seeing; but when he smacks his lips in the dark of the night, nibbling at the shiny lip rings, you know you’re right. This is a habit you’ve never seen on anybody this persistently as on Jeon Jungkook.

And the one and only Jeon Jungkook must be feeling your eyes on him, because only a second later, he lifts his gaze. Instinctively, you wave a little, but Jungkook isn’t on board with your hospitality. He rolls his eyes; you don’t take it to heart, though. You’re used to this.

As he starts stuffing the camera back into his bag, you waddle over, crossing the street. Upon reaching him, you ask, “Got some good pictures tonight?”

“I’d guess so.”

His voice is as nonchalant as always, his shoulders relaxed, uncaring. To your vampire-novel-reading middle school self, he would’ve been the coolest and most mysterious riddle, waiting to be cracked. But you know how he feels about you, and that makes the situation just a little less intriguing.

Yet, you never stopped approaching him, because aside from conversations like these, you know he’s just human, too. He smiles at events whenever he gets the chance, content with the moments he captures; he likes what he does.

Photography has always been his thing; or that’s what you gathered, at least. You see the same sparkle in his eyes that you feel in yours when you work; the same joy when he fumbles with his camera, always checking, presumably changing the settings, testing it out.

You lean in a little, wondering, “Can I see?”

“Uhm…” He hesitates, lifting the strap of the camera bag higher up his shoulder. “Do you have to?”

“If I may. I brought you here, remember?”

Of course. It’s always you; you’re the one to organise this, and you’ve seen his pieces and albums before. He might not hang around you too much, always the first to tell you he has somewhere else to be, but you know he’s good. You trust him in this regard.

“You say that every time,” he argues, a tattooed hand settling on his bag, clearly reluctant.

So you click your tongue, waving your suggestion off. You try to sound as lively as ever, but your voice is more earnest as you say, “Okay, it’s fine. Don’t show me the pictures, but come on. Be a bit nice at least.

“Alright. What else? Do you need something?”

You sigh in defeat. “No. I was just going home.”

“You should go home. It’s pretty late.”

“Aren’t you going, too?”

“I am,” he responds, his voice going up at the end. “I just wanted a bit of peace before leaving.”

“Peace,” you repeat, as if trying out the word. “You can’t get it at home?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer this time. Instead, he only shifts his stare from you to the empty road ahead, exhaling a dramatically long breath before he gets into motion. You immediately react, by his side until he asks, “Are you following me?”

“Huh? Did you forget that I was literally heading this way?” He’s distracted, looking for the street signs, and you laugh at his own confusion. “Do you even know where you’re going?”

“I guess so.”

Okay, at least he’s honest, not giving himself airs. You want to see what his inner compass suggests, but then somewhat shun the thought of walking further into unknown terrain.

So you question, “You taking the bus?”

“Nope. Subway.”

“Ah. That should be this way, then,” you nod towards the direction you’re approaching, “I know the bus is, because that’s where I need to go.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

That’s it. He doesn’t respond much; only lets out the millionth sigh, following you with something you might nearly call trust. He doesn’t attempt small talk or any other kind of interaction, so you let him sink into his thoughts.

But a beat of silence later, you still ask politely, “How did you like the party?”

“Uhhh, it was okay.” For the first time in minutes, he looks at you. “The people were weird, don’t you think? But I got some good shots in.”

“Hmm… okay. I didn’t notice anything weird about the people.” You shrug your shoulders. “Talking about shots… did you drink a little?”

He whines your name as the question is a tale as old as time, complaining, “Every single time? Why is this so important to you…” He waits, shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. Seems you did, though.”

“A little,” you say, bringing your forefinger and thumb together, indicating a tiny space. “But I’m all sober and well.” Another brief pause. “Are you okay, too?”

He licks his lower lip, dimples appearing that don’t ever need a smile to emerge. Then, he throws back, “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Dunno. You always look so bored at parties. And you always go home alone.”

You don’t know if the following laugh is sarcastic or not, but you soon discover the very answer when he lifts a finger and counts, “First off, how would you know?” Another finger added to the mix. “Secondly, I’m not bored. I’m just focused. And I don’t know anybody there.”

His hand drops again, working on his bag’s strap again. Pushing it over his shoulder. He adds, “It’s a bit different for me than for you because they’re literally your clients and you know them at least a little.”

“I mean… you know me.”

“Yeah, but you’re…” He regards you from head to toe, not the softest of expressions, and you pout. You don’t ever take him seriously, but he can be hurtful sometimes. “I just don’t think we’d be good conversation partners.”

“Weird,” you challenge, “because you’re conversing with me right now, no problem. It’s also not my fault you always argue with me at every event.”

“I don’t. You approach me.”

“You do.” You lean your face closer to his, not making it very far when his palm pushes your cheek, and you, away from him. “Ugh. Okay. Seriously, though — why do you always leave alone?”

He exhales in defeat. Seems that Jeon Jungkook is too tired to take your idiocy tonight. You understand, but you’re just trying to figure out how to convince him that you’re normal, too. That he just dislikes you because you’re different from him, and nothing else.

“Hey…” he utters, out of energy.

“I mean it,” you still declare, “there are so many sweet and nice girls around. They ask about you sometimes, you know? I’ve also met many men on such pa—”

“That’s great,” he interrupts, a palm stopping you from spilling more info, “but… I don’t think I’m interested.”

“Oh.” The syllable is short, cut, harmless. That is, until it clicks in your brain, and your eyes widen, lips parting as you turn to him in shock, stating, “Oh, wait. Do you… play for the other team?”

Jungkook blinks at you. Then lowers his gaze, turning it a couple shades darker, staring at you from under his eyelids. He looks annoyed when he spits, “No, I’m not gay. And even if I was, it’d be none of your business.”

Shit.

Okay, you were sure about your assumption, but now that it turned out wrong, this sounds pretty shitty. And annoying. And awkward.

“Sorry,” you apologise, and he gives you a taunting head tilt. “Okay… different topic then? Tell me, what do you think of this dress?” You lift the hem a little, smiling; you were convinced the moment you first saw it. “Do you think I look pretty today?”

For a second, he joins; his initial gaze is still cynical, but his voice is appealing, a whisper when he leans in and asks, “Why? Do you want to be the one I go home with?”

Ah… why do the words, the way he speaks them, tickle you just right? You’re flabbergasted, seeing your reaction on the bare skin of your arms, but all he does is back away again and once again, shake his head.

You want to retort something snarky back, but you don’t get to it when he inquires a moment later again, “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

Right… you need to go home. You forgot.

“Uh… yeah.” You look around, finally detecting a sign, picturing a bus and a number. “There’s the bus, so the subway should be…” You stop; hum; then see two women waiting at the bus stop. “Should we ask someone?”

“Sure.”

With a nod, you separate from him, walking towards the bus station bench they’re sitting on, hands folded, conversing quietly. They’re surprised when they see a figure advance, but relax when they catch your smile.

You ask the questions floating in your brain, trying to explain where you live, what you need. They attempt an answer, gesture around, and barely a minute later, you’re thanking them and leaving again.

Jungkook stands there in anticipation, waiting for you to deliver good news — yet confused when you return with slumped shoulders instead of an enthusiastic, “We were right! Come!”

Okay, there aren’t too many reasons for Jungkook to dislike you; you want to say this much. But when you see him understand that this is going nowhere, you do get his frustration.

Especially as you kiss your lips, staring at him like a lost bunny, and explain, “So… the subway isn’t here.” Big eyes meet yours. “I’m not sure where it is, and they,” your thumb points to the girls behind you, “couldn’t help because they’re tourists.”

“Ah. Great,” he says, delivering a falsely cheerful smile. Hands thrown into the air. “So we’re stranded and should definitely not be here. What about the bus? Where does it go?”

“Uhm…” You scratch your head. “Not where I need to go. It’s a different one. But!” Immediately, your voice rises, trying to approach this with hope. It’s not the end of the world, after all! “Don’t worry! We’ll get home either way.”

“Just a lot later than necessary.”

“But nothing’s lost yet. Don’t you trust me?”

And — much as you thought — Jungkook only ogles back in silence, blinking once again before he walks away with a curse on his lips.

1:25AM, Her

You catch up to him fast.

“It’s not that big of a deal, I promise!” you vow, but you reckon it only makes matters worse.

Because he breathes air through his nose, like a bull, arguing, “I’m tired, though. This is wasting so much of my time. You always do.”

You stop in your tracks. He doesn’t. You sulk, “That was mean.”

“And you’re idiotic.”

“Well… shit.”

This time you tilt your head, grinding your teeth; less out of anger, more out of embarrassment. You don’t respond much else, and he doesn’t throw another insult. Instead, he opens the bag again with the velcro’s ripping sound, heaving out his SLR.

You peek over his shoulder, confused about the timing to indulge in a passion, and ask, “What are you doing with that?”

“Looking through them,” he mutters, thumb working on the switching button, “maybe I took a picture when I came here. A sign where to find the subway.”

His reasoning elicits a sudden laugh out of you, probably unfounded to him, but very amusing to you. He throws a bewildered and somewhat warning look, and you immediately silence; still holding yourself back when he turns away again.

You wait, listen to the quiet of the night. He doesn’t seem to find any success, and the more time passes, the funnier you find his mind. Eventually, you step next to him and give up, telling him, “Hey. Don't be so tetchy. I'm not that bad.”

Jungkook side-eyes you, tapping the screen of the heavy Sony A9 Alpha. Inhaling the pleasant late summer air, he defends, “I'm never tetchy! But you got us lost.”

“So? You’re being dramatic. There's still Google Maps.”

That’s it. This look of his.

Jungkook must’ve gotten stuck in a decade you’ve long left, because he stares at you dumbfounded, camera still firmly in his hands. He tongues his cheek, blinks.

And then, you mock, “Guess I’m not the only idiot here, right?”

His next breath is deep, and he soon averts your eyes again. You dig, “What? If anything, then low battery might be your only excuse, you know?”

He doesn’t look at you, and you break into a grin again. Shake your head. Then fish out your phone at last, ready to type in the goal, or at least, to search the nearest subway and bus that fit your demands.

Hmmm, okay. If you need to go where you think you need to go, then the subway will really be in immediate distance to the bus. So you’ll be heading in the same direction anyway.

You open your mouth to ask for his address, prepared to type it in — but as you look at him again, you detect a deeply focused Jungkook, pursing his lips at his camera and regarding it with glitter in his eyes. You see it even from here, the sparkle.

Maybe he’s waiting for you to deliver a conclusion, because you catch him moving through older pictures in the meantime. From here, you only see glimpses. Of forests and roads, and then of waterfalls. Even some of him and his friends.

He doesn’t notice it, but his eyebrows are much more relaxed now, expression not quite as steely anymore; and his lips even twitch for a tiny second, tempted to smile. As if he forgot where he’s currently standing.

You let your arms sink, both hands holding your phone, and just gaze for a while. Then move your eyes to the side. To the sky. Remember places you’ve seen and loved in this town. Still hear his harsh tone echoing in your ears.

In hindsight, you really don’t think you've ever personally hurt or offended him. He might’ve been annoyed by something else. Perhaps he was dealing with something that he never dared to speak about; or perhaps, his perception of optimism is warped, because he clearly doesn’t wade through life with it.

You’d like to see his real self, though. The real self, because your gut feeling whispers to you that this isn’t him. Maybe there’s a kind and kindred soul hidden somewhere; maybe his smile proves far more intriguing to you than these mysterious moods of his. Once it appears, that is.

But…

He’ll probably say no. Your idea isn’t dumb, you’re certain, but he very likely will not go with it. But you want to try. Want to show him that you’re not as bad, that he can trust you; want to know what burdens him; or why he talks to you like this.

You might be the only one to wish for more time with somebody who wants to avoid you like the plague.

Yet…

You don’t want this to end just yet.

So you drop a suggestion that surprise even you—

“…You know what? Let’s try something fun tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

He voices it with his attention only half on you, not quite taking you seriously; so you swallow to dampen your throat and speak firmer, suggesting, “You need to trust me on this, though.”

This time, he does look at you. Works on stuffing his camera back into his bag, opening his mouth to retort something, but you stop him with a shushing finger that he doesn’t look too happy about.

“Hold on, okay?” you exclaim. “Listen. Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Uh… not until the afternoon.”

“So you can sleep in.”

“I guess.”

You clap once, loudly and dramatically, watching the man in front of you flinch. You can’t say if he’s irritated, shocked or terrified of you. But he looks hilarious like this, blinking, scowling as his fingers clutch his bag tighter.

“What is it?” he asks as if you’ve lost your mind.

“Look. Let’s not leave yet. Fuck Google Maps,” you suggest, and his eyes grow wider by the second, baffled, as if you’re caging him. “Let me show you pretty places until the sun comes up, and if you still hate me by then, I will never talk to you again. Isn’t this tempting?”

In your head, it is. Not for yourself, but for him. In your mind, he thinks of you as a constant nuisance that stands in his way, hopping around like an overhyped puppy.

Or not. Maybe he has a dog at home; maybe he regards you as worse than cute puppies.

Whatever.

You look at him expectantly, like your persisting stare could help him land a decision. Instead, however, he grimaces, his voice higher when he asks, “What even are you sa—”

No, you won’t give up yet; even if the recurring interruptions make him tear his hair out. You click your tongue and then argue, “Come on! Give it a try.”

Hesitation. Or rather, a question wondering if you’re crazy. Clear rejection. Are you losing?

“We’d be together, so nothing to fear,” you try further, “and how much time is there till sunrise?” You glance at your watch. “It’s barely half past one. The sun comes up in less than five hours. And like, I know it sounds like a lot, but if you give me some time, I’ll give you reasons to smile.”

He keeps looking at you in this questioning, are-you-fully-mad-manner, but you’re absolutely serious and you need him to know. You bat your eyelashes a little, offering your best laugh, and add, “Like this? If you really want to hate me after that, then okay. If not, then… maybe we could go get coffee someday.”

You’ve spoken enough. He raises a hand, quieting you down, and then finally says it.

“You must be crazy.”

“I am,” you confirm.

“You think I’d do this, huh?”

“…Maaaybe?”

“No.”

Jungkook’s answer is stone cold and direct, and it shuts you up with a near-wince. There’s a faint line between his thick eyebrows, lips pressed together; he looks dangerous and very, very mean.

So you don’t say much for another minute, following when he walks away. You side-eye him, notice him type his destination into his phone. Surrendering, you trudge the path he chooses, soon detecting signs leading to the subway.

He can’t say anything to your presence by his side. Even if his answer remains a steadfast, boring no, you’ll have to go in this direction anyway.

More than halfway through, you venture into a conversation again, “Have you ever tried anything like this before?”

“What? The nonsense you suggested?” he asks, and you nod, catching up with his long legs, slightly slower with your heels. “No. I don’t think I need to.”

“You’re so… don’t you ever try anything new?”

“I mean, is this your definition of something new?” He gestures at your surroundings haphazardly. “Going through town in the middle of the night instead of getting some decent sleep?”

You shrug your shoulders, defending, “It’s not like I do it every day. And nothing one can do every day anyway. That's why I want you to try it.” Your voice is soft, friendly. “But you don’t have to.”

He doesn’t answer; only comes to a halt when a bus stop nears, peeking up to the sign with the number before he asks, “That yours?” You hum in confirmation. “Okay. Will you get home well? It’s late.”

“Yeah, of course,” you pout, kicking off a tiny stone with your shoe, “done it a few times.”

He stalls. You don’t know why, but you’re sure he does. You notice it in his slow movements, the brief pause, the way he looks to the subway he needs to approach and then back to you. You smile when his eyes linger on you for a moment too long, and then he tilts his head, sighs.

“Alright. Then… good night.”

And that’s it.

You tell him to sleep well in return, earning a tiny nod, and then he’s leaving you stranded, walking away. Your eyes stay on him until he’s out of sight, down the escalator to the subway and far, far away from the fun idea you conjured.

You mimic his sigh. Take the two or three steps to the bench under the bus stop; and then you wait.

At this time, public transport operates irregularly, so you’re not surprised when you’re still there minutes later. For a while, you remain alone — that is, until a stranger tumbles to you, swaying before he takes a seat on the other edge of the bench.

You don’t look at him; don’t want his attention on you. But to your discomfort, he garbles just a second later, “This the bus to…”

He gets a hiccup, pointing to the bus sign, and then mumbles the name of the station he needs to reach. You don’t understand, however, so you prod, “What?”

Slower now yet similarly slurred, he repeats his question, but this time, you understand and nod your head yes. He overshares, “It’s just that I’m drunk, so I need to be sure. Sorry for interrupting.”

Suddenly, you feel kind of sorry for him. Your shoulders relax; you observe him letting his arms dangle between his legs, sniffling, incredibly exhausted, it seems. What did the fella experience tonight?

You respond, “It’s okay. It’s really late. Get home well.”

“Thanks. You’re very nice.”

The same finger previously signalling to the sign now points at you; but he doesn’t touch you. In fact, his digits are still a good distance away, already falling when you feel a hand on your elbow out of the blue; you nearly react on intuition, getting into position to break somebody’s nose.

But when your eyes meet the other man’s, you recognise him as the same figure standing tall that abandoned you a couple minutes ago. His hand is still grasping the camera bag strap, and he looks calm, confident when he speaks—

“All good? Sorry, I left for too long, right? Let’s go.”

Your voice changes, a chuckle hidden in it when you blurt, “What?”

“You wanted to take a walk.”

And just like that, the snicker dies again. Is he being serious? It seems so; it’s the whole package, even. The nod towards an entirely different direction and the sudden fingers around your wrist, pulling you away.

“Uhm…” you start, feet moving automatically. You turn to the guy drowning in inebriation, leaving a last, “Good luck!” as you wave, smile. Then, to Jungkook, “I thought you went away. Did you want to do this after all?”

You’re cocking an eyebrow, but much at the back of Jungkook’s head, so he doesn’t see. But it seems he hears the tease in your voice, because half-annoyed, half-argumentative, he explains, “No. Just wanted to be a gentleman. I was going to leave the moment you got on the bus.”

Ah. So he was waiting, hiding somewhere? But you don’t mention it; it’d probably just rile him up more.

Yet, you challenge, “You’re lying. You were concerned and you thought my idea was fun after all.”

“Whatever you say,” he says, waving the white flag, probably just to shut you up, “don’t know if I can do this until sunrise, but I can walk with you for a bit. Get you closer to home. And I swear!”

Now he turns, shooting a stare at you over his shoulders, lightning bolts in the middle of his pupils, “If you’re lying and there’s literally nothing special on our way, I’m actually never talking to you again.”

Nothing easier than that.

“Deal!”

“Cool,” he so nonchalantly remarks, finally letting go of your arm, “which way are you heading then?”

“North-east.”

“Good. Works for me.”

The sun is nowhere near up yet; of course not. It’s 1:37AM. Around four and a half hours.

You’re hopeful. In your head, you imagine an uplifted demeanour in no time; try to guess what his smile might look like. A genuine one. Maybe sweet? Maybe cocky? You’ll find out. You will.

So you straighten your stance, clear your throat, sigh a content breath, and step into the night with the courage the stars lend you.

2:13AM, Her

The first almost forty minutes of your night pass leisurely.

Jungkook’s initial sighs cease soon as you advance into the town, walking down a busy main street. You guess the bustling area, the sounds of the traffic and the lights of the flashing cars relieve him somehow. Give him an excuse to not talk to you.

But as the occupied road ends and you reach and pass a crowded square, you’re back in calm and serene alleys. Some people are still wandering around, passing closed shops, much like you.

You attempt conversation every now and then, and Jungkook, having eventually realised that he needs to cooperate with you — he agreed to your idea after all — isn’t as mad anymore.

At some point, he breathes in the late summer breeze, and your head swerves into his direction immediately — maybe the magic of the night has finally reached his core, too. Perhaps he’s appreciating the journey you set out to embark on.

You, for one, cherish the quiet; you know at least this much. The alley must be part of the older corner of the town because the lampposts seem Victorian. They’re fancy, bent at the top, the light a comforting golden.

You do admire the beauty in the dead of night, you do — but the weirdly bruising feeling on your skin becomes uncomfortably apparent the more you walk. Your heels and the Achilles tendons ache, the ball of your feet sensitive to each step.

For a while, you hide the stupid pain successfully, not wanting the night to end; and you do love the heels. Feel just the way those old romcom’s protagonists probably felt, strutting through town with a man whose life they’d change.

But as an involuntary groan slips out of you, Jungkook’s view changes from the old buildings to your struggling self. His eyes settle on your contorted expression before they move further down to your sudden limp.

He asks, “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah! Just been walking for a while, is all.”

“Hmm,” he hums, regarding your heels with a suspicious look. “Do they hurt?”

“Nah. I’m used to them.”

“…Oookay.”

He drags the word, as if in disbelief; and you can’t lie your way through the minutes when the ache worsens, the suddenly paved path too much of a chore. You nearly trip when your heel gets caught between the stones.

Jungkook immediately reacts when you hiss; you’re nowhere near actually falling, but his arms still reflexively jolt, the camera bag swaying and hitting your hand when he catches your shoulders.

“Okay, seriously,” he spits, eyes wide, “that’s enough. You can’t walk in these.”

“I can!”

“Not!” He takes a look around, inspecting the place; it’s quiet here, not too many cars driving by at all. So he points to the edge of the pedestrian zone, instructing, “Sit down there. Let’s see.”

See what?

You blink, but oblige. His pointing finger is dominant, and his eyes urging; you flatten your dress, taking a seat at the edge. The road isn’t high, so it’s a little uncomfortable; but you’re pleasantly surprised when he appears in front of you, crouching.

Very, very baffled when he requests, “Can you take them off?”

“Sure,” you say, unbuckling the straps around your ankles before removing the shoes. You sigh; you must admit, it does feel great. “I’m honestly okay, though.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, ignores your statement; instead, asks, “May I?”

You don’t understand what he means until his hands come to a float right over your toes; he wants to check for bruises, doesn’t he? You nod curtly; something about this warms your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this side of him before.

Not that you ever had the chance to.

He doesn’t really hate you, does he?

Carefully, his fingers reach for your ankle. The touch is warm and pleasant; doesn’t hurt until he moves his thumbs to your heel. Your feet are overworked; you notice. But rather than the annoying pain, you can’t help but focus on your view.

The big, round nose, hiding the plump, parted lips. His eyes look hooded from here, strands of his hair covering them. Intrusive thoughts plead for your fingers to card through the dark mane; it looks soft, pretty.

And the gentleness he handles your skin with fills you with fondness; you like being cared for.

Even when he shakes his head; pulling you out of your daydream. You take a breath, and then inquire, “You don’t have a problem with touching feet?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s just feet. Besides,” he stops for a second, detecting something at the back of your foot, shaking his head, “Mom used to work as a nurse. Tough job. I massaged hers sometimes.”

Ah… a loving son, a family person. You smile.

“And I thought you have a foot kink,” you tease.

“Shut up.”

“Found anything?”

“Yeah actually. Do you know how wounded your skin is here? Were you wearing new shoes?”

You gulp with a thin-lipped smile, wondering if he’ll kill you now if you tell him. You look to some random spot on your right before you admit, “Yes.”

“God, you…” He clicks his tongue. Puts your foot on the ground cautiously, reaching for his bag. He rummages through it until he pulls out a bandage, holding it in front of you. “You’re lucky.”

You chuckle, relieved and flattered. “I guess I am.”

He puffs out a laugh, but stops it right away, calling your name under his breath before he says, “God, you’re crazy. Be careful. And admit it when you’re hurt. Why didn’t you?”

Well… you didn’t want the night to end—

“I…”

You hesitate.

He works on your other foot just the same, a tender thumb running over your ankle, probably used to the soothing touch. It distracts you. And when he stops and you don’t answer, he puts his arm on his angled leg, staring up at you in anticipation.

“Yes?” he prods.

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you’d care.” Nonchalantly yet pouting, you nibble at your lower lip. “And if I’d told you they’re hurting, you might’ve suggested ending the night.”

He cocks an eyebrow as if agreeing to the most self-explanatory statement ever, nodding as he confirms, “Damn right I would’ve. We should end the night right now if you can’t walk. Not in these, at least.”

Your chest is hot, your stomach twisting a little. Jungkook really does bother; if not due to a connection he shares with you, then simply because he cares for people. Never, you have never experienced him like this before.

With a tilt of your head and a batting of your eyelashes, you suggest, “And if I was barefoot?”

Which he reacts to with a roll of his eyes. “The night isn’t that warm. Don’t do this to yourself. The ground’s dirty, too.”

You take a look at the dark grey pavement upon his argument, much as if the night could allow you to detect any of the dirt he speaks of. Once more, you hum, pretending to contemplate what to do; and when you pick up your heels, suggesting to follow your idea either way, the back of his hand gives your knee the lightest of hits.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Watch.”

He does. Watches you place your spacious, black bag on your lap, opening the zip. Observes as your hand dips in, pulling out one pair of sneakers and replacing them with your treacherous heels. He keeps ogling when you put them on, mouth widening bit by bit.

He doesn’t speak until you’re done, socks picked out of the shoes, pulled over your feet, laces tied. You keep smiling, content with the moment, only dropping the grin when you see his puzzled expression.

“What?” you question.

“You had them with you and… Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

Your answer comes without hesitation; whatever timidity he elicited a moment ago slowly fades again. You clear your throat, back to who you are, and dauntlessly admit, “It was sweet. How you took care of me, I mean. I didn’t think you ever would.”

“But you could’ve at least worn them sooner and avoided the hurt?!”

“Well, it didn’t hurt then…”

“You’re…”

Jungkook uprights himself, towering above you. You put a flat palm onto the pavement, wanting to heave yourself up, but soon see a hand in front of your face. He’s offering it; and you’re quick to take it.

Warm and soft; gentle.

As he pulls you up, you land closer to his body than calculated; his face isn’t too far from yours… much nearer than it has ever been. He leans back; looks to the side; blinks. Clears his throat. Lets go off your hand way too late.

The breath you held escapes in a sudden blow. You swallow.

And when you’ve processed the strange moment, you feel the change in your stance. You’re standing taller now; your feet feel heavenly in your Nikes. Dusting off the front of your dress and your ass, you wait for him to say something.

But he keeps standing there on the road, in the middle of a parking space, hands on his hips. He’s judging you; you understand. Your mindset isn’t for everybody. You might seem crazy, alright.

Yet, he doesn’t scold you again. The up and down of his irked voice doesn’t appear this time when he speaks again; instead, his chin nods towards your legs, and he questions, “So you just carry around shoes with you?”

“I need to,” you say, matter-of-factly, “I can’t ride the motorcycle in heels. And!” Jungkook’s mouth opens, but you’re quick to explain. “Before you ask. No, I didn’t hide my bike anywhere. It needs some fixing, so my co-worker took it because he knows someone who’ll do it. And because he owes me a favour.”

“Right… how unfortunate.” He pauses; runs his tatted digits through the hair you longed to touch minutes ago. They look so silky, it makes you sick. His eyes settle on you, intrigued before he adds, “So, you have a bike, huh?”

“Yeah… why?”

“No reason. I do, too.”

“Mmmh,” you voice, nodding to the road ahead to suggest moving. He follows, trudging next to you again. “You didn’t use it today?”

“No…” He pats the camera bag. “Didn’t want to harm my equipment.”

You hum approvingly, fingers entangling in front of your body. You inch closer to his arm, nudging his shoulder with yours before you flash a sugary smile and say, “Thank you. For caring even a little, you know? Even if you’re always like that, it’s nice to see you like this for once.”

“I’m usually like this,” is what he, however, merely answers, accompanied by air quotes.

But you know you’ve gotten through to him at least a little. Melted bits of the frozen parts of his heart that feel so vexed by you on other nights. In truth, you think, there’s nothing but a delicate organ pumping behind his ribcage.

He’s not a robot; Jeon Jungkook is undeniably humane. If anything, then more than most people you have ever met.

And it shows when he looks away, barely able to hide his smile. You see it even from here — that the gesture does something to his eyes. Nearly squints them shut, makes them smaller, more joyful.

You inhale, proud of yourself. Watch as he toys with his lip rings before he asks eventually, “What do you mean owing you a favour, by the way?”

He sounds almost offended. You think he’ll ask about that favour, reprimand you for giving away your bike tonight of all nights. Tell you off for dragging him here, doing something big enough to entrust an entire motorcycle to somebody.

But instead, he continues with a question you never foresaw, “Are you in a quarrel with them? Am I not your arch-enemy?”

You burst into laughter immediately, covering your mouth as the other palm touches his arm. There’s a bulging bicep under his blazer, but you’ll focus on that later.

Right now, you’re fairly occupied by the satisfied eyes; he doesn’t really expect an answer. He wanted to make you laugh… Why does that set something loose in your brain?

“Oh… are you jealous? What if I told you it’s somebody else who occupies my mind at night and not you?” you wonder, wiggling your eyebrows.

“Don’t do this to me. I’ll find your co-worker and fight them for your enemyship. Word of honour.”

“It’s enmity. And stop flirting with me,” you tell him, moving towards him again, shoulder hitting shoulder. “Or is it something else with arch-enemies?”

This time, he doesn’t veil his grin. It’s bright, pretty, reminiscent of the light shed on you underneath the lampposts. And his pupils; whenever you see them clearly enough, you recognise the sky in them. Borrowed stars inside.

You shake your head a second later, winding down from your fit of laughter, and tell him, “You’re not my arch-enemy. Arch-enemies don’t exist, and you know you aren’t one. You just…” You stall, your voice quieter now. “You just regard me as one.”

He throws you an indecipherable look. Hints of joking, shreds of seriousness, you think. His gaze drifts back to the path again, regarding a passing group of three friends briefly. His hands slide into the pockets of his jacket, and he sniffles once before he utters—

“No, I don't.”

Ah. Ah.

Why do your eyebrows relax the way they do? And your shoulders; already in ease, yet they seem to fall in relief. You peer at him wordlessly; he doesn’t demand an answer, fully aware you’re looking at him.

And you don’t ask what you’ve been to him ever since he saw you at the first party probably a year ago; what irked him, what delighted him. If he thought about you at all.

Instead, you look at the neon words in the next street, asking, “Are you hungry?”

2:19AM, Him

You’re irritating to the core.

You always have been. But he’d be lying if he didn’t admit you amused him a little. No matter how much you’ve been wasting his time, you allowed a smile in this ill-lit night. Nobody else at the party did — so in some sense, you’ve already won, and somehow, he’s even grateful.

Grateful that you’re optimistic about the world at least. Glad that you suggested fetching food. Endeared by the way you thanked him for his care. Surprised that you ride a motorcycle! Relieved that you have good humour.

Even though his own humour and smile dissipate after you enter one of the few open stores still providing late night snacks. The girl behind the counter looks tired, but straightens a little when the two of you flash a polite smile.

She greets with a sweet, “Hi!” but Jungkook sees the lethargy in her drooping eyes immediately. Poor girl.

But you’re as enthusiastic as ever; maybe a little more now, maybe observing the same as him. You put your hands on the counter like a child — the image is somewhat cute. But what comes out of your mouth is not.

“Uhm… Could I have a portion of cheese tteokbokki, please? And then… A half and half corndog for my husband.”

Your… what now?

Excuse me?

Jungkook throws an immediate and scorching look your way, utterly surprised. When you meet his eyes, his thick eyebrows are closer than anybody’s ever seen. He huffs your suggestion away, and then corrects, “I’m not her husband. And I’ll take the chicken wrap.”

You chuckle, leaning into him, shielding your mouth with a hand as you warn, “They’re not usually very good at this store. Trust me.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Right. He does. After the disaster of finding the damn bus and the deception caused by your shoes, he won’t trust you very easily anymore. His opinion clearly differs from yours, so he’ll bank on his gut feeling.

Satisfied when you shrug, as if to indicate, “If you say so,” he walks over to the window seats with you in tow, looking out to the peaceful streets. Once seated, he turns towards you, peering until you notice and ask far too purely, “What?”

“Not even your boyfriend, no… Jumped straight to making me your husband, huh?”

The lift of your shoulders brushes his concerns aside; your eyes are incredibly innocent and even somehow playful when you say, “I thought it’d be fun.”

“Was it really?”

“Well, your reaction was funny, at least.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes in disbelief. You’re courageous, he must admit. Social anxiety must fear you — is that how you live life? Unabashed, spirited, not a sheer care for anything that won’t actually hurt you.

He doesn’t know if you’re insane or if he’s jealous.

But he still reiterates, “You’re crazy. And it was embarrassing.”

“I mean,” you say, moving on your chair, folding your fingers on top of the counter but still looking at him, “it was embarrassing because you made it. It’s honestly whatever.” You blow a raspberry, and then take a swing again, “Why is it awkward anyway? We’ll never be here together again.”

He whispers a hushed, “Thankfully,” and you tap the counter with a click of your tongue. He gets it; you live differently. That’s fine. As long as you don’t pull him into your mischief, it’s fine.

Right?

He’s right, isn’t he? He knows that in his personal opinion he is; yet, he can’t help but feel that sting, suddenly deeming himself as boring. You’re never bored, are you?

Anyway…

“Even if you do something like this again,” he tells you, “at least tell me.”

“I mean, that would kinda prevent your genuine reactions from happening, but… if it makes you happy.” You grin at him, and he scoffs; wants to say something before the girl calls for you. “Food is ready.”

A couple seconds later, the two of you have settled back into place; at the sight of the snack, Jungkook salivates. He didn’t realise how hungry he actually was. The buzz and fuzz of a party makes one forget such an essential thing fast.

Or maybe, he was just immersed in his work.

The chicken smells good, at least. Or are these your tteokbokki? He can’t quite discern the scent right now; his mind is fogged by his appetite. Silently, he unwraps his food, swallowing before he digs into the wrap.

So far, so good… seems edible. He keeps chewing; swallows some more. But as the taste starts to sink in and he realises the sogginess of the wrap, the lack of proper sauces and the dryness as well as the blandness of the chicken…

He pauses. Where… are the flavours?

Slowing down, he glances at his meal. Inspects it as if he’s holding an entirely new recipe in his hands. A look of realisation creeps upon his face, unaware of your gaze, and he soon hears an amused snicker from the side.

You don’t say much when your eyes align. Only, “And?”

He knows he’s already lost when his expression changes, cringing; when he can’t answer right away, only gaping at you in confusion. Still thinking about where this recipe went wrong.

He answers, “It’s fine…”

But you catch his obvious lie; he sees it in the way you smile so devilishly. Cocking an eyebrow, enjoying another bite of your snack without ever averting your eyes. Then, you put the tiny wooden fork back into the dish, propping your cheek on your fist.

You wait; he doesn’t know what for. For him to eat again? Maybe; because you soon ask, “Do you want something else?”

“Nah.” His answer is instant this time. “I can do this. I’m an omnivore.”

“Ah, yeah. An omnivore friend right here.” You laugh, curious when he takes another bite. And then, “Jungkook, it’s okay to admit…”

But he won’t listen. Only makes a disapproving sound, stuffing his mouth with another horrendous bite. Shit; he can’t confess that you were right. That you were actually right this time.

Suddenly, he’s craving a cup of ramyeon.

But he should keep eating. Wash it down with his drink, empty the soda. And he’s almost halfway through when he notices a movement from your direction, like you’re playing with your food.

Only, he realises that you are not; rather separating the tteokbokki in two halves before shoving the porcelain dish towards him. He shakes his head, but you persist, “Take it, man.”

It does look good…

But… are you going to use the satisfaction his defeat may give you? Probably. But fuck… Fuck it.

Reluctantly, he lets the wrap fall onto the small plate, gulping down the remainder of what he just bit off, and then, accepts your generosity with a nod. And… whether it’s because of the disappointment the wrap brought or the late hunger…

Jungkook thinks he’s levitating above clouds, floating towards the sun.

It’s good. Very damn good.

And when you ask again this time, “Should we get another?” his nod comes promptly, chest risen in satisfaction as he states, “That’d be great.”

“Alright. Be right back.”

“Nah,” he says, lifting an arm as if to protect you. Mid-action, you halt, sliding back up onto your seat. “Stay here. I’ll get it… All good.”

So he does; enjoys the look of surprise when his other hand even carries dessert, four pieces of matcha mochi ice cream. He says, “This is for you.”

You gasp. He can’t deny that it’s sweet — the elation, the big eyes, the palms coming together in delight. How you look between the food and him, suddenly wiggling your feet.

“You seem to like it,” he notes, and you nod feverishly, telling him that, “Yes! Been craving it since we came in. Thank you!”

“Oh. You should’ve told me earlier! We could’ve gotten it. No worries.”

“It’s okay. I wanted to see if my dessert stomach still allowed anything. Didn’t disappoint me today.”

Jungkook gets to his own tteokbokki, halving it in the middle the way you did, pushing it towards you. It’s weird to think about it like this, but — considering how long the two of you have known each other, you might almost look like… friends.

And you don’t feel quite like an enemy either. You’re even… kind of nice. Friendly; harmless.

“I’m glad,” Jungkook responds, only looking towards the entrance when another group of three friends, two girls, a guy, enter. Then back to you, “Sorry. You were right. This,” he points to the poor, sad wrap, “was shit.”

“See? My first instinct almost never lies. And I know this store from other places… the wraps are never good.”

“Sure, but… your first instinct isn’t always right, though, is it? You did get us lost, so it was wrong at least once.”

“Hm… was it, though?”

Jungkook regards you in confusion as you put another piece on your tongue, working on the chewy thing as he asks, “What do you mean? We had no clue where we w—”

“Yeah, I mean. I agree. But… I don’t think it was that wrong. Because—”

You lick your lips clean off the tteokbokki sauce, smacking them. You look child-like, but pretty when you indulge in your element, uncaring about everything, just living. Maybe it’s not that bad that you’re bold.

And maybe, just maybe, he can power through this night easily after all; especially if you keep saying things that soothe his chest, things like—

“Because my first instinct brought me to you.”

2:49AM, Him

The temperatures are falling as the night proceeds, and the second portion of the mochi ice cream adds to the pleasant chill.

Jungkook wonders how you’re doing; your dress is skimpier than his jeans, and your arms bare. But your stance and your speech are still inconspicuous, skin free of goosebumps, your walk elegant, leisurely.

Judging from your occasional hums and your ceaseless optimism, you’re enjoying this journey. It almost makes him feel bad; guilty about how adamantly he refused all this just an hour ago.

It hasn’t been too bad. Sure, you’re bold and intrepid, and yeah, in some ways he is, too — but his courage stems from other motivations. From adrenaline-loaded activities or joyful, temporary pains. Like his tattoos; his motorcycle; the summer he bungee-jumped for the first time.

You’re a different kind of daring; you challenge your limits in crowds and consider life a respectful joke. You don’t ever hurt anyone, he doesn’t think — you just go and see how far you can push yourself.

Perhaps in some sense, the two of you complement each other while simultaneously seeming to be cut from the same wood. Perhaps you’re different, but then again, not so much.

You’re quiet; you weren’t until you left the snack bar. As for now, however, you seem distracted, swallowing heaps of your dessert as you scan the surroundings you’ve led the two into. You’re somewhat unfazed by it, yet peering as though you’ve been here before.

Which, in retrospect, makes sense. You’ve been wanting to show him places you enjoy after all.

When the silence extends, Jungkook, along with the chirping of the nightlife, breaks it with a, “You know what?”

Your head swerves to his side, the wooden fork in your mouth. The pure gaze you give him throws him off guard for a moment — it’s somewhat sweet. But as he regains himself, he says, “I didn’t think we’d get to a housing scheme here. The main street is super close, but the vibe is so different.”

“I know. It’s a little scary at night when you’re alone. Gives very Desperate Housewives, doesn’t it? Secrets veiled behind shut curtains.” You draw closer, imitating a spooky gesture. “But I liked coming here when I was younger.”

Bingo. He thought so.

“Ah… why?”

“My friend lived here,” you explain with a tilt towards a random direction; he doubts the friend lived in just the house you gestured to, “she’s long moved out of course, but we’d play on these streets back then. Most of the neighbours knew me, too!”

Jungkook tsks, hauling his own bite out of the cup, and you add, “No, seriously! We could just knock at anybody’s door here, and they’d let me in.”

“Not if they moved out, too. A lot of time has passed.”

You bob your head. “Time has passed indeed. It does so pretty fast.”

“Doesn’t it?”

You seem to get into overdrive, gearing up; he didn’t think this topic would rev you up like this, but it appears you have a somewhat firm and fond opinion about the passing of time. Jungkook recognises the sentiment before you speak — the light of the lampposts reflects in your eyes like glitter.

Only, he doesn’t foresee what you say next, your tone teasing through the joy you display—

“Yeah! Like. Do you remember when I told you to not get the wrap and you still di—”

“Shut up.”

The roll of his eyes isn’t anything new; but the faint feeling that accompanies it, something akin to amusement, certainly is.

“Okay, but. Seriously,” you start again, sly smirk falling, voice neutralising the mock, “it felt different here. Because like, you know, where I live, it gets crowded. I’m not too far from the city centre, so… this place always felt really peaceful to me. Jieun and I played together a lot.”

Jungkook frowns.

“Jieun?”

“Hm? Oh. The friend I spoke about? She’s pretty cool.”

“Ah… Right, right.”

“Mhmm,” you hum, the end of your small fork tapping the bottom of the nearly finished cup, “you know another way to know that time passes really fast?” You pause for effect, then add, “It’s been ages since we saw each other for the first time.”

“Right. At a party, too, right? When was that anyway?”

“Hmm… Like.” You ponder, blinking, looking up to the sky. “Like two years ago?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen; if you’d asked him, he would’ve estimated a year tops. If he digs in his memory thoroughly enough, he could probably even remember what you wore that day; what you looked like.

It doesn’t feel like two years. You’re right — time truly does pass like the wind.

“Wow,” he exclaims, “it’s been this long since you started pestering me?”

“Shut up,” it’s your turn to blurt, your body swaying towards him until you push him to the side of the vacant road. “I didn’t even come near you most of the time.”

“I know, I know. You were fun to look at, though. Seemed to enjoy yourself every single time.”

Shit, why did he say that? Shouldn’t he hold onto the image he fostered; the one that’s permanently irked by you, throwing snarky remarks throughout the night?

And…

Didn’t this just break the banter, the frenemyship — frenmity? — the two of you have going on? Was it too nice? It’ll probably surprise you. Then again, is he a damn child? Why would he worry about such things? Question his own kindness?

Why would he hold onto his ego and deny you his humane side when you’ve been nothing but lovely to him all night?

The young adult rivalry is over, Jeon Jungkook. Look at her and fucking admit that you’re the arrogant one.

But funnily enough, you don’t seem to notice anyway.

“Hmmm, I do love my job,” you answer, “I have a lot of fun organising stuff. Doing something good for other people, right? See them enjoy it. I mean, of course there are days when things don’t go as planned, but.”

You lift a shoulder, indulging in the final remnants of your chewy mochi and the melted matcha ice cream inside.

“I know. It happens to me, too.”

“Really? How?”

Jungkook waves towards the sky, lists, “Heavy rain, lots of traffic, too spontaneous, issues with the camera… etcetera. Anything can happen.”

“Yeah — I get it. But yeah, I do love doing this. I meet a lot of nice people, too. And I guess that makes me feel very… blessed? It puts things into perspective.”

“How so?”

“Like, it makes you see that most people aren’t bad.”

Huh. Odd. Not that he’d ever deem the entire globe vile, putting a standardised label that he can impossibly prove. But as far as he has seen… too many people aren’t good either.

“Really?” he asks. “That’s a lucky thing to experience.”

You look genuinely surprised, turning towards him when you ask, “You don’t?”

“Uhm — rarely. I do enjoy photography. Always have.” His mind zooms into a glinting memory from the past, and his shoulders and voice rise when he recalls, “Y’know… My dad got me one of those yellow disposable Kodak cameras when I was a kid. I loved it so much.”

You nod; if he didn’t know better, he’d almost say you look… delighted. Actually interested.

“And events and weddings,” he continues, “they’re beautiful to capture. It’s probably the lights and the pretty people. And just… the memories?”

This time, he looks away, straight to the road; if he hadn’t, he’d know that your gaze is definitely fond now. No doubt about it. You listen in closely.

It’s the first time he’s talking to you like this, or to anyone — or for this long, for that matter. Most of your conversations were fleeting, fiery, a petulant back and forth that — he now realises — could’ve been something else, something better, too.

“But then it just sucks when so many of them can’t appreciate it properly,” he explains, raising his hands to emphasise, tone galled. “I mean, I look at my camera and I see a tool to create art. It’s… nothing I take for granted. Just think about it.”

The ball of fire in his chest grows; he feels it warm up, gassed-up. “A thing that can hold onto moments in absolute high definition, so that you can still remember them years later? The 18th century couldn’t have imagined. They needed to commit everything to memory just like that.”

“Wow, Jungkook… You really do love this, too.”

His arms fall to the side. He inhales the fresh flurry of air. Rethinks his passion for his job and says, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do.”

“…But?”

He knows what’s missing.

“I love the art, but I hate the clients. The event hosts. Not you, but the one even above you.”

Jungkook reckons this was a confession that long sat on his tongue unmentioned. Of course he thought about it; is always reminded when he attends these functions, standing at the back, at the front, left and right, unnoticed and taken for granted.

But now that it’s out and that he’s finally verbalised it to somebody… it definitely liberates something in his head.

You see his issue with these gatherings; he knows you do because he’s figured out this much. You’re filled with enough empathy, sympathy, every grand word ending on the same syllable to acknowledge his disappointment.

But you’re filled with humour and absurdity, too, evident in the answer you provide to diffuse the tension.

“So, that’s why you’re always in a foul mood.”

“Shu—”

“Shut up, yeah, yeah.” You giggle, but then halt for a moment, toying with the rim of your paper cup, “But you know, I think art is worth something even if just one person appreciates it. If it helps in any way… I’m always impressed. And I always appreciate it when I call you and you come despite finding me so annoying.”

One corner of your lips lifts, the smile humble and light; sends a pang of guilt through him. Have you always been so nice?

“Also, I do see the pictures almost every single time,” you add, “and you’re so good at this. At the job itself and the editing afterwards. Honestly.”

“…You think?”

Damn.

Jungkook would probably not bask in this hobby, continue his job if he wasn’t proficient in what he does. He’s known about his prowess ever since he was young.

But praises do offer a sense of magical warmth, don’t they? He doesn’t think any creative mind ever sickens of such unexpected support. And the way you say it… makes him want to never lay down his camera.

“Of course, yes,” you confirm, “not to shoot up your ego, but… you once sent a set of pictures where I found one of me. Don’t know if you even noticed? I was wearing that lilac dress and curls, I still remember — and—”

Stuck on the mention of your clothing, he immediately attaches a detail to the memory, “Sleeveless dress. Long silver earrings, right?”

“Oh… right…”

Right.

He won’t mention that he looked at that picture for just a second longer than at the others that night. Noticed for the first time how pretty you were. Not too deep of a thought, a twelve second stare, but… you wore this vibrant smile on that picture, and in some way, he did hope you’d see it, too.

It seems you did. He feels satisfied, proud even.

“Right,” you repeat, your defences somehow down, “uhm. I printed the picture. Still have it somewhere.”

Jungkook has already often wondered what people do with the pictures; put them in albums? Frame them and pin them over their couch? Right now, he also wonders — do you look at it a lot?

And this again begs the question — when you do, does your decision to book a vendor like him fill you with pride? Like your choice was right?

“That’s so nice,” he says.

“All that to say,” you inhale, “that I think you’re really fucking skilled.”

Woah. You weren’t quite certain if your consolation would bring him any solace, but you’ve done far more than that. You’ve shown him that you see what he does — and isn’t this what every artist craves? To be seen?

The tension buzzes between him and you like electricity; he doesn’t know if it’s just him lighting up or if you’re feeling a kindred link, too. But it’s somewhat intense in this moment of walking under the stars, surrounded by quietude and absolute pose.

So much so that he’s soon submerged by an odd urge to make the intensity wane, “Hey, does this feel to you like… a cliché chick flick kinda dialogue?”

You know…

The moment when two find an empty street in the middle of the night, realising that a conversation with each other isn’t the end of the world after all?

That type of thing?

But he doesn’t say any of it.

“Yeah? Maybe. But it’s also true,” you argue, “I’m an honest person and I don’t think I’d say anything I didn’t mean.”

“Ah, yeah?” Jungkook voices, taking the emptied out ice cream cup and throwing it into the bin on the side of the road, along with his own.

“Mhm, one hundred percent,” he hears you say, followed by a light, quiet smacking noise.

He doesn’t see what you’re doing until he arrives back where you stand; watches you lick the sticky rest off the pad of your thumb, smiling when you stare up at him again. It’s a mundane gesture; he’s done it ever since he was a kid.

But somehow, he can’t stop looking.

Might be the way your lips curve when you do it, or how your eyes smile when your mouth does. The authenticity you portray is rare; perhaps he just confused it with madness until now.

Seconds pass, and with that, your smile does, too. As it fades and drops, replaced by a curious expression and big eyes, you soon mutter, “What?”

There’s no response to that, really. He doesn’t know either.

He doesn’t understand how you turned out to be so right. How it’s such an ultimate truth that a serene night brings out a dreamy alter ego, hitherto undetected. Jungkook has never felt like much of a romantic, but right now, he thinks he’s on a different plane of reality.

This doesn’t feel like Earth; and the town doesn’t feel like the one he struts through during the day.

So maybe it’s not that wayward or groundless for him to lean in. To bend a bit more. Further and further until you laugh nervously; he knows you’re preparing to crack another joke, but you remain silent as he approaches.

Gauges your reaction. Will you run? You aren’t.

Instead, you gulp; let your pupils fall to his piercings, just when his own gaze moves to your lips. His right hand, tattooed, led by its own will, reaches for your cheek until he’s cupping it; and suddenly, his mouth parts — what’s happening? — and then—

And then, a vehicle roars from afar.

Both of you hear the motorcycle before you even see the blinding white light; he grips your arm, probably too harshly, dodging the street with you and jumping onto the pedestrian walk.

One must be crazy to still drive through the city at this hour. Right?

You pant, mixed with insane chuckles of relief, “Shit. We almost died.”

“We didn’t,” he refutes, “we had plenty of time.”

“Oh no,” you stretch the last word, eyes squinting. An accusing forefinger points at him before you deduce, “We almost died because you like me. Of all things!”

“I do not. You just looked kinda cute.”

Jungkook might’ve attempted an indifferent answer, but instead, he steered into an excuse that you do not accept at all. Your smirk is telling and satisfied, and if he wasn’t trying to prove a point, your Cheshire Cat grin would’ve made him laugh, too.

“But you did almost kiss me,” you persist.

Ugh, you’re bold. Laughing like it means nothing; no embarrassment, no shy restraint in you. Which is probably not too bad; somehow even charming. Explains the rosy dust on his cheeks at least. He feels it in the heat, can’t believe he almost kissed you just now.

Why does he feel like a hormonal adolescent? It’s not like he’s never kissed anybody.

You’re still enclosed by pure delight, nudging his arm repeatedly, annoyingly. And when he doesn’t answer, choosing reticence instead, you nearly shriek, as if he confirmed all you just said.

His instinctive hand slaps up to your mouth, covering it, shushing you. You’re still smiling, working on removing his palm, but before your nonsense can proceed, a sudden light flickers in the corner of Jungkook’s eye.

Immediately, he seeks out the source, soon finding a room in the house left to him lighting up. You woke somebody, it seems. A silhouette becomes clearer, its edges more refined with every second, and just before the owner of the place can shove the curtains aside, you grip Jungkook’s hand.

Within a moment, he finds himself tugged away by you, running, nearly stumbling over his own feet. You blurt, “Better get away before they kill us.”

As you leave the tranquil settlement behind, Jungkook still hears a voice from an open window, cursing the younger generation as they do; and then, out of the damn blue, a fucking dog barks.

When you turn over your shoulder, mouth dropping open, Jungkook knows you’re thinking the same as him — this happens outside of cinematic universes, too?

It takes a minute until you’ve reached another road again; one of the kind he’s more familiar with. The city type. The two of you come to a halt near some pole, and you let his hand go, leaning against it.

For a moment, you work on catching your breath, Jungkook’s hands settling on his thighs. And then, when your eyes meet, you burst into a fit of laughter, followed by a playful wiggle of his eyebrows to which you respond, “Don’t act innocent. This is your fault.”

“What? You were lau—”

“Because of you! Oh, I know you want me so bad.”

You’re jesting, of course. Swaying your head, poking his chest, a brat straight out of some TV show. But what you can do, he’s been perfecting for years.

So he answers in kind, “And if I did?”

Only for you to utter something that not even his brain can compute.

“If you did? Then… I think I’d let you.”

“Ah… Yeah? Why?”

“Because— I think you’re just half as bad.”

His snicker is half amused, half flattered. He purses his lips, nodding, and then declares, “You’re just a quarter as bad. But guess I’ve gotten so tired that I’ve started doing weird shit.”

You click your tongue, puffing out a breath, instantly reacting when he only flicks your chin and then walks away. Your startled expression prevails, a distance between him and you established, but just as he puts his hands in his jeans, he hears you finally follow.

“Hey,” you voice from behind, tapping his arm, “are you really tired?”

“I was kidding, but. Honestly? A little.”

“…Hmm. You know, my friend lives in an apartment nearby. Jieun? Didn’t move too far from her old home. We could stop there.”

Jungkook’s left eyebrow leaps up, surprised by the suggestion; the idea doesn’t sound too bad. But…

“Wasn’t the deal to go around for a whole night, though?”

“Ohhh. Are you starting to like it?”

You’re observant, he’ll give you that.

“I’m just saying,” he adds, “and also, would she just let a stranger in?”

“Oh, she’s very civilised and hospitable. She wouldn’t mind, and she’s known me for ages. She trusts me.” Maybe you detect the hesitation in his eyes and the twitch of the corner of his lips, because you immediately carry on, “We can just stay for an hour and then go.”

“Would she be awake, even?”

“She’s a night owl. I know that.”

“Uhm…”

He ponders. In some way, he’s kind of liking the breeze, the quiet side of this town. But… would Jieun find that weird? Then again, can he say no? You’re ogling at him with these hopeful eyes; maybe you need the rest, after all.

“Okay,” he says; he even thinks you jump a bit in joy, nodding.

“Okay! You’ll like her. We can leave with newfound energy afterwards. Okay, cool.”

That’s all you need to lead the way. You look around a little, making sure you’re approaching the right direction, and when you find your confidence again, you march ahead.

Your walk is energetic, not too idle anymore, your beam as dashing and fervid as ever. Jungkook knows his way around editing programs; he’s added wings to pictures before or removed unwelcome passersby on an otherwise great photo.

He even understands how to surround a body or silhouette with a glow; but he’s never seen it around an actual person outside of all these graphics editors before.

Your body is so clearly encircled by it.

Bedazzling.

Screw the 18th century. Even in these modern times of advancement, Jungkook doesn’t think he needs a camera to commit you to memory.

3:25AM, Her

You avert your eyes from the phone and turn towards Jungkook, reaching him where he’s planted firmly in front of the apartment complex. He’s been waiting, back settled against the wall, and as you near, his eyebrows rise in question.

Your friend didn’t respond until now — but just as you foretold, she’s still awake at this ungodly hour.

“Okay. She’s home, but,” you explain, already ringing the bell to her apartment, “she said she’d be leaving soon. Sounds like she’s in a rush. Typos and all.”

Jungkook waits until the buzzing sound of the opening door ceases and you’ve stepped inside, leading him up the stairs, and then wonders again with big eyes, “And she’ll just let us stay? Alone at her apartment?”

You wave his concerns off with a hand’s gesture, “She trusts me, dude. I’ve done this a couple times.”

“What for?”

Hm… you dive back into the old days. Some new, some old. What were they again? They’re mostly blurred, but some of them are carved in your core memory.

“Oh, just…” you reminisce. “If I wanted to meet guys and wouldn’t want to bring them home back when I was still with my parents? Or when I’d need a night to sober up. They would’ve killed me if I’d come home drunk. And Jieun moved out early.”

“How old is… Jieun anyway?”

Old. Not really, but you like to vex her to the point of a pout. She’s patient, but she’s also an incredibly close friend — you allow yourself to be a brat with her and she allows herself to roll her eyes.

“Early 90s kid?” you guess. “A little older than us.”

‘93, as far as you remember.

“Ah. Damn,” he voices; you don’t know why.

“Okay.” You climb the last steps to the second floor, halting in front of a white door with a copper number six on top of it. Knock thrice. “Here goes.”

She might’ve been getting ready close to the door, working on her shoes or questing for her keys. Because she opens mere three seconds later, with a radiant smile on her face able to melt hearts, and a comfortable attire that’s, however, not comfortable enough to wear at home.

A thin sweatshirt and a bun, loose strands framing her pretty face, and shorts that are definitely meant to be worn outside. She won’t be here for long. And you’re focused on this very fact and her hurry so much that you nearly don’t register how shy Jungkook gets.

His voice is somewhat smaller than before when he looks at her; your eyes shift to him, and he’s blinking before he finally breaks and mutters, “Oh. Hi.”

“Hey!” she retorts; she looks so sweet saying it. You understand his perplexity. “Date?”

“Nah. Just a friend,” you answer, which, yet again — very confusing — makes him hum in question. If he started regarding himself as your date all of a sudden, you swear…

You smile.

“Just a friend,” you repeat.

“Fabulous. So you’re not walking around alone, at least,” Jieun concludes, letting you in. In the living room, a hand on her kitchen island, she points through an open door, “Okay, so, the guest room bed is made. Use blankets on it, if you want to rest.”

Her finger shifts to signal to the entrance you came through, imitates a pulling motion, “Don’t worry about locking the door whenever you leave. Also got some leftover food in the fridge, but there’s also cup ramyeon and some frozen pizza in the freezer. Sorry… I need to go shop—”

But you interrupt, shaking your head, “Oh, no worries, really. We just ate, so we’ll just stay here for a little, work off the food coma and leave. Won’t damage anything.”

“I know you won’t, baby.”

She moves to fetch her purse from the couch, and Jungkook uses the moment to whisper in your ear, “Where is she going anyway?”

You don’t know; you shrug your shoulders, pursing your lower lip, but echo his question a moment later, louder than him, “Where are you going anyway?”

Previously cramming in her purse, checking it for content, she looks at you again, telling you, “Ah… Jongsuk is having a bad night and wants me to come over.” Regarding Jungkook, she adds, “My boyfriend. He’s an insomniac and got stoned tonight, too, and just—”

Jieun blows a raspberry, raising a hand for a whatever gesture, and Jungkook mumbles, “Oof. Sounds…”

“Yeah… I know. In any case. Make yourself comfortable, okay?”

“Yes. Thank you so much.”

“Thanks, Jieun,” you repeat.

She nods once more, waving her tiny hand and flashes one last smile before she’s out the door and has left you in full silence. You shuffle your feet for just a second before you look at him again; he still looks somewhat in a daze.

So you ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Nothing.”

Nothing, right… that’s what they all say after seeing Lee Jieun for the first time. You try not to think too hard about the teeny tiny sting in your enormous, delicate heart. Only let him know, “Don’t worry too much. What could happen? She does trust me.”

You take a couple steps towards the bedroom she offered you, and you hear him follow. Look at the neatly made bed, a thought occurring; but you don’t entertain it yet. Only add, “Besides, she owes me.”

He chuckles. “That’s how you live your life, huh?”

“It’s alright. We’ll just be here for an hour. She’s known me all her life, so nothing to doubt here. And also, think about it,” the tip of your forefinger taps against your temple, “even if something did happen or went missing, she’d know where to find me and whom to report.”

He waits, ogles at you. Then presses his lips together, nods as if you made all the sense in the world, and lifts a shoulder — agreeing, “If you say so. Then uhm — let’s lay down for a bit?”

“Sure! I’ll just sleep in her room, so you can have your privacy here.”

“Mhm. Okay.”

You stand at the door frame for a moment, feet unmoving.

He’s already turned away. And you regret not walking away when you watch him unabashedly take off the blazer and provide a glimpse to his snatched waist as inked fingers scratch his back briefly, shirt moving up. But then it’s covering his skin again.

Flawless back; pretty golden. A little further up, and you’re sure you would’ve seen strong shoulder blades, too. He’s worn fancy dress shirts at luxurious events before — you know many would kill for his built, because you’ve seen his bicep flex before.

You forget where you are for a second, but when he opts to turn, eyes on you for just a heartbeat, you stir. Blurt out an awkward apology, and then leave. Wish him a good night, barely waiting for one back before you close the door.

You laugh quietly at yourself.

Her room is just next door; you already mentally prepare for a nap. Meanwhile, Jungkook plumps onto the bed, groaning when the comfort hits, and works on getting used to the ceiling, if only briskly.

He only notices how much his head is spinning when he closes his eyes, ready to doze off. Should he set an alarm? He doesn’t want to still be here by the time Jieun returns. Maybe he should tell you, too.

But his body won’t move.

Yet, in the time he’s failed to make up his mind, he suddenly hears a knock at the door again. Must be you — must be telepathy.

He tells you to enter, and you do with a shy demeanour; only thirty seconds must have passed, right? A minute, tops. He looks at you in wonder, and you explain, “She uh— locked her room. No clue where the keys are. Guess that’s why she specifically pointed out the guest room.”

You nibble your lip, getting no answer back. He looks just as much out of ideas as you, and you still refuse to bring back the thought from before; yet, you ask, “What do we do now?”

“Well…” He looks around, though there is not much to take in. “I can sleep on the couch?”

“…The couch is too small.”

“Okay. Then I’ll just sleep on the floor.” He’s already working on getting up, no hesitation, scratching through his now messy hair, feet moving on the fluffy carpet. “I’ll take one of those pillows, though. Carpet should be good eno— what are you doing?”

You’ve charged towards the bed, climbed past him until you’re sitting behind him, facing his back and his craning neck. You say, “I’m not giving you that pillow.”

“Why?”

“You can’t sleep on the floor.”

“…Why not?”

You throw an unbelieving look, as if it’s obvious. Your flat hand gestures towards the carpet vaguely, and you argue, “It’s uncomfortable.”

“Listen, I should. This or the couch, nothing else left.” It’s crazy to you how he doesn’t even consider the bed instead of giving it up for you. “It’s just an hour. Don’t worry about it.” He stretches a hand towards you, curling his fingers in a grabby motion. “Come on. Gimme that.”

You’re astonished — beyond pleased about the fact that he cares like this. That he’s so… mindful and humble. You give up; he won’t falter and you know.

“Okay… then take this blanket, too.”

He grabs the second one that Jieun provided, head bowing a little as he says, “Thank you.”

The proceeding minutes you spend preparing for bed, slightly discomforted by your dress, pass in half-awkward, half-comfortable silence. He lays down on his unusual spot, and you cuddle into the blanket on your light, soft side.

As the rustling of blankets and sheets subsides, it gives way to the sound of the ticking clock; you focus on it, count the clicks like sheep.

But sleep doesn’t quite fall upon you yet, and you guess Jungkook feels similar when he calls your name and asks, “What does she owe you?”

Your head moves towards his voice, even though he can’t see you. “Huh?”

“Jieun. What does she owe you? And your coworker.”

“Oh. Uh. Honestly, just kindness.”

You can already see it — doe eyes rolling at another one of your cryptic answers. You know people don’t fathom your thoughts very well, and some feel annoyed by your dreamy outlook of the world. You don’t mind, but you wonder what he’s thinking.

But all he responds with is, “What?”

“Well, just. They’ve known me for ages. I’ve been there for Jieun for so long, and Jongin has always been so incredibly nice to me. Picked me up when I was dead drunk once and brought me home. Got me medicine and everything. And I’ve lent him some comfort over the years, too.”

It hasn’t been too long, so you remember. You’ve been good friends with him ever since you started your job; a steady part of your team. He and you have got each other’s back.

“These two are friends,” you say, “and I think kindness is the most we can give our loved ones.”

Jungkook hesitates. Have you bored him to sleep? Or is he pondering your words, thinking of you as weird? Maybe not—

Because he actually converses, asking, “You think? Doesn’t that mean we’re just kind to them then, so they can be kind to you in return?”

“I mean… yes and no. Owing might be the wrong word. I’m not nice to others to get something back. I’m like this because I want to be and because the world can be shitty and it’s important to be nice, and in return, I want people to be nice to me, too. It’s not an eye to eye kind of thing, it’s just about. Spreading affection in relationships. It’s what they’re here for.”

“…Hm. Is this why you’re never rude to me? Even when I deserve it,” he asks, registering a hum. “You know… you think really… uniquely.”

This is a nice way to phrase it at least. People like you; you’re good with them. But sometimes, they can be mean, too. Not that you mind. It’s natural — people occur in all types and shapes.

“But is it unique, though? Isn’t it a given?” you question.

“Yeah, probably, I just— never thought of it this deeply.”

“Mmmh. So is me thinking uniquely a compliment? I can’t say.”

He laughs, and you join immediately, exclaiming an, “I’m serious!” in the middle of it all. Jungkook’s snicker is authentic, so you enjoy hearing it; but you like his answer even better.

“Maybe. I just… I feel like a lot of people try to be different these days. Or play a role to be perceived a certain way? But I think you’re genuine — you actually mean the things you say without any hidden intention to make people forcefully like you, right?”

An intention? Oddly phrased. You think, though… that what he said was nice.

Still, you confirm, “I don’t try to be anyone for people to like me.”

“I didn’t say otherwise! This is actually just what I meant. Besides, people like you anyway because you’re you.” As if he’s reading your mind. “That’s what I was saying.”

You hum, blinking at the ceiling and the little modern light hanging there, the beam off. The darkness pleasant. You conjure another question and ask, “So you think me being me is a good thing?”

You always considered it was. You like being you. But Jungkook didn’t like whatever makes up your personality — has this changed? Apparently.

“Of course,” he surprisingly answers, “it’s always a good thing. And just because I disagree with some of your characteristics, it doesn’t mean everybody will.” Oh. Well. But wait— “Or maybe, I’m just a moaner.”

Well.

“That you are,” you verify.

“Damn.”

“But, but— you’re kind, too, you know? Not everyone says the things you just said.”

“Maybe.”

“So…” you stall, rethinking his prior words. “Do you still disagree with all those characteristics of mine?”

Another joyous sound tumbles out of him, much in the form of a breather than a laugh; hushed, but you still hear it clearly. Perhaps you’re being a little awkward; but in all honesty, you hope he’s just finding it amusing, somewhat cute.

“I mean — you’re too blunt. But brave, like, I could never. The thing you did at the shop? Never. But this isn’t bad. And you aren’t bad.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His voice is a whisper. Reminds you of a feeling akin to temptation; your mind automatically imagines the susurrating sound near your ear, exhaling the very syllable he just did. Frankly, you’re absolutely tortured by the knowledge of him being this close.

That you could probably touch his face if you rolled over to the edge of the bed, letting your arm dangle, seeking his skin. That he’s in the same room, talking to you this gently, saying things that a girl doesn’t hear too often these days anymore.

There it is. The intrusive thought from before… prevailing.

And you’re tortured by it. But mostly, by the image of him standing in front of you between the houses just a little time ago, staring at you, pupils flitting back and forth between your eyes and your lips. How he neared you. How he almost kissed you.

You might’ve joked about it then, but deep down, and especially now, you’re intrigued by the idea. Of the fantasy of a what if — what if he’d actually kissed you?

Taking a deep breath, you look to the side, staring at the door and call, “Hey, Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

“Is it uncomfortable down there?”

“Uh… a little.”

You shuffle at your spot, turning to the side. “Just thinking. What good does it do if we don’t rest well? What are we here for?”

“…What are you talking about?”

Pause. Quietude. You close your eyes, then open them again.

You’re never shy; so you don’t deem it an advantage for yourself to turn timid now either. You tell him, “Come up. I know you want to. I know I want you to.”

He doesn’t say anything; you bite your tongue. Maybe it was a mistake. But then his voice chimes again, wondering, “Are you sure?”

Your answer is immediate.

“Of course. Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay… okay.”

As he starts to move, you gulp. You make place on the bed, moving to your previous side, pushing the blanket aside in case he wants to slip under it, too. The motions of his silhouette seem uncertain as he makes his way up to you, as if he’s uncomfortable with it.

“I… Was I wrong…? Do you not want to?” you make sure.

“What?” you hear him say; see his head shake. “Ah, that’s not it. Just want to make sure you’re really okay with it. I’m not the type of guy to…”

“I know. It’s fine. I don’t think you are.”

“Okay.” The mattress bulges where he lays down before it evens out again. He emits a couple groaning sounds, probably glad to give his back something proper. You turn to him just when he says, “Honestly… that’s a little better, yeah.”

“Thought so. Are you tired?”

“Definitely.”

“But you’re not sleeping.”

“Because you’re talking.”

Wrong. There was enough silence for him to nod off before. He was the one who started the conversation at all; you were ready to turn and toss and rest eventually.

When you don’t respond, his head turns on his pillow, too; in the darkness that you got used to, you see his eyes twinkle. Both of you know that you’re looking at each other. And he’s kind of close — closer than you thought.

And… if you’re not wrong, he just inched nearer only a nanomoment ago. He repeats in a whisper, once more accusing, “You’re talking, that’s why.”

“That’s really why, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“The only reason there really is?”

“What else could there be?”

You smile, brazen, letting out the courage you’ve gathered, “Well, I know what else it is for me.”

“Yeah?”

Daring a step further, you graze his shirt featherlightly; you don’t know whether he notices. Not until he moves his hand, fingers ghosting near yours.

Waiting until you reveal with sheer, sudden heart palpitations, “I… I want you to kiss me. You do, too, don’t you?”

He inhales, but doesn’t exhale. What does it mean? You don’t know.

You don’t know what it is until you hear the smile in his words, gentle yet tantalising when he says, “…I do.”

“Good. Good. Then kiss me.”

And the rest proceeds without hesitation and without another plea.

His body moves as if on its own accord; he seems possessed, or controlled by a puppeteer. Warm lips lock with yours before you can draw another breath.

They feel soft, full, like tiny pillows, a contrast to the metal of his piercings. And they move gently, so carefully, like he’s still scared of crossing a line despite your permission. But when you lean into him, hoping for more proximity, he blossoms a little. Initiates more.

Oh, he, too, has been waiting for this, hasn't he?

A hand, nearly as warm as his kiss, slithers up to your face, holding you closer to him. The bangs that so often cover his forehead are tickling yours now, his head tilting to give his cute nose more space.

And with that, he deepens the kiss, too. Dares a step further, separating your lips with his, trying things out. He gauges your reaction as the tip of his tongue sneaks its way into the mix, and the moment you do the same, he dives in properly.

Kisses you just a little harder, tasting you, sighing into the movements as if all the weight of the world has dropped off his shoulders. As if he’s relieved, calmed down, resting for the first time tonight.

Yet, at the same time, he’s firing himself up — moving over your body slowly, holding onto your mouth to his best abilities, as if you’d disperse if he let go for too long. As if you’d change your mind.

He cages you in to keep you underneath, not touching your face anymore but shoving his fingers into your already tousled hair. If you were still in your right mind, you’d recognise how insane this situation is. Your younger self would’ve never predicted such a moment to ever become part of your life.

But it is… it is so clearly being played into your hard drive; somehow, you already know it’ll remain stuck in your memory: the way he’s kissing you, so thirsty, so insatiable. How he’s sighing, relaxed, yet sporting an audible heartbeat against your chest.

He uses moments of switching sides to breathe but continues right away; the keenness drives you crazy. You touch his shoulders and then wrap your arms around him firmly, making him hasten closer until he’s nearly falling onto you.

What in the heavenly make out sessions is this…

It’s nasty, yet sweet. Followed by quick breaths; it takes merely a minute until you feel his lower body grinding into you, his jeans tight around his crotch all of a sudden. And the second you realise he’s hardening beneath them, your body reacts.

Reacts so effectively.

Your lower tummy tickles, dampness pooling below as he pushes into you again, harder this time. You moan, enticed by your goosebumps and the heavy bulge. Solid enough for you to crave him within a moment’s notice.

And it only worsens threefold when he whispers, “Fuck… Somebody really knows how to kiss, huh?”

“You’re talking. What was this—” He so rudely interrupts with another peck, and you laugh into it. “Yeah, this…”

Your last word dissipates like candle smoke; you don’t even know why you bother to speak. Your voice is barely perceptible when his teeth remove the short sleeve of your dress, kissing your shoulder and then down to your cleavage.

It’s easy to remove your dress; it’s light, summer-y — but he doesn’t bare you just yet. Plays around at the mounds of your tits until he pushes the neck of the dress down a bit, asking, “May I take it off?”

Oh, if you could count the times you’ve imagined his veiny hands removing this damn dress just in the last fifteen minutes…

“Of course,” you permit, “do I look like I’d reject you?”

“Mmmh.” The hum is proud, satisfied, vocalised amidst another kiss to your clavicles. “Just making sure.”

Soft, warm hands trail up your leg, leaving a path of another set of goosebumps. You want him to stay right there on your thigh, knead the flesh, press into it, showcase the lust he feels in the beguiling pain.

But instead, he pushes up your dress, fingers ghosting over your ass — and when he doesn’t find your panties but only bare skin, he stops kissing you. Looks at you. Makes out the string of your thong a second later — in the dark, you discern the way his lips round in captivation.

He’s loving this.

He tugs at the string and lets it snap back into place; you gasp even though it doesn’t hurt, but it drives you mad when he states, “Wow. Very intriguing.”

Leaving it at this for just now, he kisses you again, tongues mingling once more before he releases a sharp, nearly aggressive hiss and mumbles, “Holy fuck. I can’t stop.”

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” you guarantee.

“Good. Good, good, good.”

The dress surrounds your waist now, stopping below your breasts, and Jungkook journeys down to drag his lips around the spots he hasn’t touched yet. As if he’s trying to familiarise himself with all of you, working towards the goal of memorising you entirely.

His teeth scrape at your pelvis just lightly, seemingly contemplating whether he wants to destroy these panties or not — but then decides against it. You wouldn’t mind; you’re not showing anybody anything of you tonight but him.

And you’re already such a mess; breathing so irregularly, letting out his name and quiet sighs. He should know he could do basically anything. That you’re ready for him.

But instead, he only curses again, sucking at your skin harshly, nails digging into your hips. And then, from below, you hear him say, “Want you to suck my dick so bad.” He moves up, fingertips on your cheek, rubbing himself against your underwear, and questions, “Will you suck my dick, baby?”

Oh, he didn’t just…

Oh, the way the pet name screws with your head is irreversible. You feel sick at the mention, breathing out hard, about to get up at the speed of light to swallow him fully; to the hilt.

But you won’t give him the satisfaction yet; you’ve gotten used to the darkness, and seeing the hazy insanity in his eyes spurs you on to play with him a bit more. So you lift your body, giving him hope, but then say, “I have a better idea.”

“Ah? Where are you going?”

“Wait.”

He quietens. Falls to the side and onto his back as he watches whatever you’re trying to do unfold. You look back at him for just a blink of an eye, but you immediately perceive the hand cupping his clothed dick, moving a bit, up and down.

“Okay. Should work on this first,” you say, straddling him backwards.

You hike up your dress more, baring your back to him, and you instantly hear the breath he releases. Feel the palm touching your spine, grazing it; you imagine huge eyes ogling at you like he’s reached nirvana. You so hope he’s looking at you like this.

“My God…” he only mutters, however, proving your point when he opts to get up. But you turn as much as you can, a flat hand pushing him down again, to which he complains, “What?”

“I told you to wait, silly. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You sure? You’re being pretty mean right now.”

“I’m not being mean. You’re just not patient,” you laugh. “Give me a second and I’ll wreck your world, ‘kay?”

“Ah?”

“Mhm.”

“That I wanna se— oh. Oh.”

Exactly.

Once you’re done pulling off the dress, you shift back, enough for your pussy to align with his gorgeous face. Jungkook instinctively grabs your ass to pull you lower, and you chuckle at the restless gesture.

But you need to focus; and as best and tidily as you can, you unbutton his jeans, zipping them open until you detect his shorts. He raises his hips to help you, and you bite your lower lip, crazed by the sight that awaits you once the jeans are halfway down.

The bulge is big indeed. The imprint is insane; the light from outside allows glimpses, and you salivate, bowing your head to kiss him above his underwear, feeling him stir. And he imitates, blowing against your wetness, his finger — middle one? — curling around the string digging between your ass cheeks.

When he frees your pussy, you feel it. It hits the air in the room coldly, a contrast to his hot breath. A second more and you might drip into his tantalising mouth, just how you’re drooling over the cock you finally set free.

It springs out, veiny under your touch. Hard. Thick and long. Everything good, a fucking ideal package. You scold him, “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

“Huh? I wasn’t hiding.”

“Now I realise just how mean you are, man,” you say, shaking your head, spitting onto the slit before wiping it off again with the tip of your tongue. He swears again. “Could’ve had this make me hoarse so long ago.”

“Fuck,” he replicates, “stop talking, or I’ll fuck this mouth of yours. You want to be hoarse so bad, then try me.”

“Is this a threat? You really think I won’t let you? Stay right there, little—” You look again. “Big man. You can do whatever you want, but wait a second, alright?”

“Nah. You’re not the only one teasing. You brat,” Jungkook whispers sharply, delivering a smack to your ass; you gasp. “I just…”

You don’t know what he just — you only know that he’s attaching his mouth to your cunt right away, thong pushed aside, diving in with a tongue so eager. You squint your eyes shut, lips parting, calling his name as he holds you there roughly.

He soon wraps his arms around your hips, like a belt, lips intense as he kisses you even wetter. The sounds he eludes are dirty, sinful; and the feeling of his piercings doesn’t add to your sanity.

You decide to not let this distract you; he’s competitive, you realised, but you are, too. So you lean in, lips wrapping around the tip. Your right hand enfolds his cock, pumping him, tracing every firm vein that protrudes. He’s so pretty all around.

“Shit,” you whisper, hoping he doesn’t hear; only continue to work your tongue around the head, setting the nerves alight as he’s doing for you.

You kiss down the shaft, licking and humming to create a sort of vibration. And then, you take him in as much as you can. Despite being large, barely fitting, soon hitting your throat, you try. Hollow your cheeks, bop your head, gifting him your attention.

But it’s hard. So hard because—

God, he’s lapping you up so good.

So hungry. Out to kill you as he releases the prior belt, bringing two fingers to your pussy and thrusting them into you slowly. Mouth and digits; both at once. Thumb against the clenching hole between your ass.

He’s distracted every now and then, much like you, but he still maintains a steady pace. Cruel… so cruel. Those damn fingers propelling into you, harder sometimes before they slow down again. Curling to hit you just right, massaging the rough, walnutty spot.

Oh, Jungkook knows… knows exactly what to do.

They don’t make men like him anymore.

Your ass clenches when his skills exceed your expectations and he rubs your insides particularly well, mouth just right above your clit as the tongue circles around it. It’s nearly overwhelming; you could cry with this mouthful of dick impaling your throat.

He feels so good on you. So good in you. You want all of you filled, not just your mouth. So you soon let go with a plop, a string of saliva so lewdly connecting your mouth and his member, and you wipe your mouth.

Tell him, “This should be enough.”

And he agrees immediately, smacking his lips, as if licking up the remnants of his food, “Fuck yes. Enough.”

You want to get into the next position, put in some work, but what you don’t expect is that Jungkook is already planning a step ahead. Tapping your ass with his big manly palm, pushing you off of him until you’re crawling on all fours.

Submitted to him. And you don’t mind a bit — just for now, just for him, you’ll give into this because you’ve been craving it. It’s okay; you vow to yourself that in a while, you’ll wreck his shit just as much.

On your elbows and knees, you hear him shifting, the mattress dipping, his knees nearing you and closing your legs in. The palm covering the right side of your ass causes it to jiggle, and when you push your butt towards his pelvis, he praises, “The way you know what to do without me needing to tell you. How convenient.”

“Well,” you breathe out, “it’s not my first rodeo. But do make it the best… okay?”

“No pressure at all, huh? I’ll try my best.”

You want to react, bring a laugh straight out of your throat, but Jungkook is faster. The reaction comes alright, but not as you wanted it to. But rather in a high-pitched moan, arms quivering when he fists his cock, guiding it to your leaking cunt, and rubs the tip between your pussy folds.

You reckon he’s testing out how eager you already are; you contemplate on telling him. On pleading, on saying something that might drive him to action. You don’t mention a single word, though; only let your ass speak once more, steering towards him until he gets the message.

He must have.

Because he clicks his tongue as if to admonish you for your shortage of patience, though only briefly before he surrenders to the itch you cause. Scratching without hesitation now, he finally helps you lose your damn panties and then dips himself into you slowly.

Of course; with a length like his, there’s no way you’d be able to survive a quick push. Jungkook knows to be cautious, penetrating you sweetly; an oxymoron in a moment like this. Your fingers digging into the sheets reveal as much; there’s not much going on yet, but you’re already holding onto the soundness of your mind so desperately.

“Shit, what the fuck,” you murmur, your turn to let out profanities; you’re sure this isn’t your last. “You scared of something, Jeon? I’m… I have an IUD.”

“Scared? No. You’re not an idiot, right?” he whispers. “You would’ve told me if you couldn’t do it like this. Much rather…” He breathes heavily between his words. “I’m taking you in, y’know? Enjoying — fuck — how wet and warm you are… Gonna wreck you raw, though, no p-problem.”

No, your foul words were certainly not the last for tonight; his dick is just halfway through when he stops and another tumbles out of you. He drags the thickness back, then inside again.

Your walls are occupied to their last inch, and you know you could take all of him if you just gave yourself some time — but somehow, his care turns you on even more.

Goddamn, he’s good. All of him — his dick, his voice, his mouth, his touch. He’s so— nnghh…

You have never witnessed his fingers do much more than take the pictures you love. Whenever he operates the button with his forefinger, flexing the inked crown above his knuckle, you already know the man has a talent unmatched.

But right now… right now you have an entirely different perception of these same digits.

Like, when he leans in a bit, still deep inside you, undoing your bra in a smooth motion. Or when he caresses your back, along your spine, contradicting the touch with a harsher, harder jab now.

And shit, when he pulls your ass cheeks apart, digging in further, fucking through your seeping hole until he’s covered in slick, too. It must look so good to him; incredibly memorable.

Your whimpers are quiet and gentle, matching the way he fucks you, only rising in volume when he decides to push another inch in. You behave; you whine softly; that is until all of a sudden, he pulls back most of his cock and shoots back in, colliding with your ass with a slapping sound.

Yelping, you hold the sheets until your fingers hurt, and he bolts forwards, a hand slamming your mouth shut and muffling your mewls. Way too close to your ear, he says, “Sh sh sh… my God. Jieun has neighbours, babe — don’t spoil her reputation.”

He proceeds to kiss the skin under your ear, taking your arms captive until they’re pinned to your back. Fingers intertwine messily, holding your limbs in place, and as he frees your mouth again, you laugh — it’s all you can do to not feel too weirded out by the mention of Jieun’s name right now.

You tell him, “Use my panties then.”

“Your panties, huh? Do you want me to?” You nod, but he’s not obliging enough to give into your wishes. Teasing you to no end. “Nah. I’ll just…”

Jungkook doesn’t finish the sentence; what he does is much more alluring, nearly forcing tears of lust to your waterline. He grabs the back of your neck, urging you to look at him, and just as you register his face close to yours, he kisses you again.

Your body immediately blossoms. You breathe as much as the kiss allows, yielding to his tongue. Let him push you down and into the mattress, imprisoning you under him. And he kisses you… kisses you… kisses you more…

Basks in your dimmed moans as he hits from behind again, hard. Sheathes himself inside you thoroughly and with impact; he’s enjoying the fact that you want to yell, but need to restrain yourself at this time of the night.

Because he’s right. You don’t want Lee Jieun to earn looks in the morning because of you.

As if provoking you, he blatantly asks, “You good?”

“Yes— yes!”

“Mhm…”

He’s out of breath; can barely emit another word. But he doesn’t waste any moment at all; kisses your neck, bites your earlobe. Pushes his hands under your body to get ahold of your tits. Fucks you into space, lifting one of your hands to your face, entangling his fingers with yours.

You shift up and down the mattress, just a little; the position, with him on you, doesn’t allow too many extreme movements, and you’re more than fine with it. There’s something about him going unhinged on you like this.

But… it does awaken the need to retaliate, too.

So you use the opportunity when he decides to pause, running out of energy, gasping for breath. He leaves you empty and yearning, pulling back and sitting up, and judging from the touch on your tummy, you assume he wants to flip you on your spot.

Instead, however, you turn on your own accord, both palms that he held captive minutes ago shoving at him. He produces a strange sound as he falls backwards, landing on the mattress and onto the pillow with big eyes that almost don’t fit his Greek God-esque physique.

Goodness, the damp dark hair. The abs. The pecs. The nipples…

You might dribble onto his sweaty, shiny skin. And you don’t veil your innermost thoughts this time, straddling him as you say, “My turn. Need to ride you so bad.”

He visibly relaxes; leads his fingers to your hips, thumb drawing patterns on them. His tongue darts out to play with the lip rings, and he eyes you up and down. He’s taking you in for the first time properly, just as you are him.

Just as your eyes drifted over his muscular body, he now makes stops along the journey — your pussy on the length of his cock. The tits and the perked nipples. The ruined hair, sticking to your collarbones.

You wonder how he likes what he sees.

Probably enough if he can respond with something like, “I won’t stop you.”

Good to know.

So you take a comfortable seat on top of him, still keeping him down, lining up your sex with his. When you welcome him in again this time, you do so fully. No slow torture, no waiting. You claim your throne until your ass hits his hardened balls.

He says, not quite expecting an answer, so you don’t give one, “You’ll kill me today, right?”

And then you start. Put in all the effort you can gather. He feels heavenly inside you, the perfectly curved length moving just the way it needs to. His groans and calls of your names sound promising, telling; you suppose you’re doing a good enough job if his eyes roll back like this.

The hands on your hips push into your flesh more, and when you remove one and bring it to your mouth, sucking his forefinger with your eyes set on him, he loses his shit. Starts pumping up from below, meeting your up-and-down ministrations.

“Shi— what— do you think,” he attempts, stagnant breathing, “you’re doing…”

But he’s grunting in ardour, so you don’t stop; don’t let him take over fully just yet. No — you roll your hips, bend your back, catch a patch of his hair and then angle your body to crash your lips onto his.

The kiss weakens his defences. For a moment, you do feel his nails bruising your skin, but another second later, his touch is as soft as a feather. He’s so ultimately at your mercy that he lets you trace his abs and kiss his pecs.

Lets you get into a crouch, your palms settling below his chest for support. And then… then you navigate north and south, repeatedly, fucking him into you with vigour. He throws his head back, but then looks at you again, blinking fast before his eyes squint shut once more.

“The fuck are you—” he tries, but you start circling his cock again, moving in eight-curves, seeking support in his biceps.

“What?” you voice. “Not good?”

“You fucking— kidding me?” His lower lip trembles when he parts his mouth. You see it even with the lights dimmed. “This is such… a good fucking pussy. I was an idiot to push you aside.”

You’re too dazed to really pout, but you do hear the undertone; ask to clarify, “You’re just saying that f-for… getting my pussy, huh?”

“What— no. Fuck no. Look at me.” His hand reaches out, fingers poking into your cheeks, and he pulls you down to him, makes you meet his eyes. You slow down. “I wouldn’t just do this for any pussy— I… not with you. I don’t just. I don’t just go home with anybody. ‘Kay?”

His words bloom in your chest like a bouquet of flowers. In such a vulgar moment, you shouldn’t be feeling like this, but you can’t help but acknowledge the warmth spreading throughout your body. Burning up your already aflame muscles.

You want to know more; so you query sneakily, “What does this mean?”

“What it means?” he echoes, words blurry, as if drunk. “That you’re beautiful. And… honestly, kind of cool. So annoying but so fucking funny and— hot—”

“I am? Look at this,” you say, still moving but tired; touching his face, his cheeks, his sweet nose, “look at you…”

“No.” He grits his teeth. You don’t know what comes over him, but he’s inhaling way too deeply, lightly aggressive again as he retorts, “Look at fucking you.”

And with that, he gets what he desired earlier; flips you over, climbing over you. With your shield lowered, you didn’t expect this, and now you’re right where you began. And for some reason, the sharp jaw, the furrowed eyebrows, the starved look hits you even harder than before.

The many inches he sports fell out as he took over, but as he plunges into you again with embarrassing ease, something feels different. How he looks at you. How he touches you, pushing your hair back, kissing your lips with such softness.

And how he holds you when you finally see the stars you waited for, his face in your neck, his thumb on your cheek, his palm on your jaw. Kissing your shoulder, delighted as you seek an anchor in his back, tightening around him impossibly as he fucks you through your high and your broken moans.

“Jungkook—” you repeat over and over, and in return, he mutters constant, “I know, I know.”

Again and again and again until his sounds become more uncurbed. Only syllables, rumbling, his chest vibrating against yours until he lifts himself up and retracts his cock.

His pupils shake as he jerks himself off, and you know what he’s seeking, quickly getting to your knees, helping out. You replace his hand with yours, sticking out your tongue before you engulf his dick rapidly.

In surprise, he lets out, “Oh, fff—”

Shit, how he sounds. And how wicked he feels in your mouth, tasting like you, tasting like him. Wet and slippery, his balls hard when you cup them. And then— a mere moment later, he’s shooting ropes of white down your throat.

You’ll never get used to the feeling. You didn’t with your exes, didn’t with any other guy you’ve been with. It’s sudden, your gag reflex kicking, but you don’t want to stop until he has.

Sticky and hot, you let him; look up to him. His jaw glimmers due to the sheen of sweat, and he holds your hand to keep himself upright. Nearly growls when he’s done, and then calms down bit by bit. Pulls out of you. Plumps back onto his ass.

Catches his breath; and once the two of you have relieved your burning lungs, you with your legs under your butt, you look at each other again. A sudden laugh. He lets his head drop onto his shoulder, and then shakes it before getting back on his knees, nearing your joyous form.

The last kiss of the night is endlessly more chaste. No tongue, no making out. Just a couple pecks, a hand around the nape of your neck, noses grazing. Once, twice. And then, he’s smiling again.

You tell him, “Can’t believe this actually happened.”

“Crazy… right?”

“Crazy, yeah. We…” You gulp. “We can leave it right here, though. Guess we were both riled up.”

He nods, humming, looking to the side. “We could. But we don’t have to. It felt too good to forget, you know?”

You gleam and glow; if you could, you’d curl your fingers into fists, screeching like an excited high schooler in her room, acknowledged by a crush. But you only press your lips together, corners twitching up, cheeks hot.

Then, you say, “You know what… I might just agree.”

“Good.” Another one of his stares to the side, through the door of the room. “You think we should very quickly and very harmlessly use Jieun’s shower? She probably wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t think she would. But she’d certainly know what happened.”

“Least of our concerns,” he argues, getting up stark naked. He pats your thigh and then tugs at your arm, adding, “We’ll be tidy. And then we can rest a bit and leave. Am too fired up anyway.”

You know things might change again once you’ve slipped into your clothes and walked out into the night air. Perhaps the passion was reserved for this very room, actually a result of unbridled lust and tension.

But you think it’s okay. It’s okay as you giggle in the shower, flirting and bantering.

Because even if you part from Jeon Jungkook and all this as just a saccharine memory, you’re ready to seize just a little more of this stolen moment before reality sets back in.

5:12AM, Him

Whether it’s the numbers glowing on his digital watch or the fact that the two of you didn’t rest as much as you’d anticipated after all, he doesn’t know.

The residual heat of the past hour has warmed his body and relaxed his muscles; your touches still haunt him, crawling over his skin and sitting on his knees, tempting them to buckle. And your voice, your sounds… like a ghost in his mind.

And you urging him to climb the nearby hill with you, surprisingly steep, doesn’t help. He doesn’t know why you’d choose such a place at such an hour. The occasional forest around you is dark, chirping, and the road is empty.

Perhaps you feel secure in the presence of another; in this sense, it’s even flattering that you trust him this much.

But he’ll admit that his still wobbly condition and this stop of the night are slowly bringing him to his limits. The blazer, at least, is already hanging over his arm, giving him more space to breathe.

You’re piloting the way, careful, navigating with the help of the light beaming from the occasional street lamps. Jungkook sighs in a half-complaint when the road doesn’t end, nobody around far and wide.

You’re similarly out of breath when you turn to look over your shoulder, barely for a moment before you continue to escort him further up. Then, you encourage, “Come on! We just rested. How are you already tired?”

“Woman. We’ve been walking for a pretty long time.”

“Uhmmm,” you exclaim, swaying when you pull your hair over your left shoulder, “tell me something. What’s your sleep schedule usually like?”

Well, shit.

Jungkook can already tell what you’re referring to, but the counterargument already sits ready in his brain, just in case. Yet, he hesitates. Studies his surroundings to make sure he knows the way back, stalling on purpose, and when you ask, “And?”

He answers, “Uh. Late. I slept at 7AM just last week.”

“What?!” Your voice is high-pitched, in disbelief, and whatever point you wanted to make is stuck in your throat upon the revelation he divulged. “Holy shit, Jungkook.”

“Yeah, but like,” he immediately works on justifying, making use of the comeback he’d already thought out, “I don’t walk around town, you know? I spend these nights eating or singing or—”

“Woah. You sing?”

“Yes, but. I will not sing to you now.”

He catches up with you in one long step, regarding your countenance. Even in the dim light and the pitch dark, he recognises the roll of your eyes, as if to say, “I wasn’t even going to ask.”

But instead of vocalising that very overt thought, your answer comes as smoothly as silk, “It’s fine. You sang to me plenty tonight.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his spit, disguising his surprise as in the hike reasoned exhaustion. His mind needs a moment to fix itself, but when the balance is restored again, he wisecracks, “You’re one to talk. May I remind you of what you sounded like earlier?”

“You can. But I do remember myself, thank you.”

Damn it. You’re a step ahead all the time. He can’t even outsmart you the way he wants to.

“Way to diss me. You’re hardcore,” he complains, “and here I thought you were kind and sweet and all of that.”

Jungkook nearly retracts his statement, because you throw such a perplexed and disbelieving stare back that he shrinks, reprimanded, “Can’t I be both? A woman can certainly be both, man.”

“Of course,” he agrees, hands up as if he’s being arrested, “of course. You’re both, for sure.”

He anticipates more scolding and scowls, but it seems you’re satisfied with the response he gives. You grant him a pleased, lopsided smirk that resembles his own, and then sigh into the night air, long and deep before your breath morphs into—

A mixture of a gasp and a shriek.

“Wh—” Jungkook blurts, barely registering the movement scurrying from the left side of the forest into the trees right of him. “The fuck.”

And just as fast as your gasp appeared, it diminishes, too, turning into a throaty laugh. Jungkook listens in to the echo of the rustles, still seeing the bushes move; whether because of the animal that just flit past or the breeze, he can’t say.

His eyebrows shoot up when he looks at you, coming down from the quiet chuckle, and he only realises that your elated joy stems from the way he’s standing right now.

He must’ve instinctively dashed forward, an arm in front of your body, shielding it with his. It was just a squirrel, and in all honesty, it is the two of you who are trespassing, disturbing the forest life with your presence at such a time.

Yet, his reaction must’ve been immediate enough to protect you from whatever loomed in the dark, and you seem to like it for some reason. Because as he clears his throat and lets his arm sink, all you comment is a fascinated, content, “Wow.”

“Uh… all good.”

“Yes. All good indeed.”

Your voice is tinged with a combination of gratification and tease, as if you’re one utterance away from adding a little, “My knight in shining armour.”

Instead, you bite your tongue and look around; Jungkook sees what you perceive a mere moment later. The surroundings clear, the forest less dense; on the left side, a vast opening appears, a wide path ending in a… cliff?

And behind that, the town.

If there was a soundtrack to his life, he’d probably hear violins playing right now. Reminiscent of the wind, perhaps accompanied by piano keys that sound like the softly glimmering stars above.

The picture is breathtaking. Not that he hasn’t been at such a spot before — he grew up in a big, mountainous city.

But since he didn’t expect for the hill’s peak to allow such art, he’s a little more overwhelmed than he expected to be.

From behind, he hears you say, “In any case. Let’s rest here?”

“Uh-huh.”

It’s hard to avert his eyes. All night long, he’s only felt like this once; this marks the second time.

Gratefully, he walks up to where you’re making yourself comfortable, flattening your dress and settling your bag on your lap. You pull a thin, short cardigan out of it, slipping into it. It’s certainly cooler up here.

And then, you pat the spot next to you, and he lets himself fall with a sigh; it’s been a long night, and despite the restful-not-restful hour you spent at Jieun’s, it feels as though he’s truly easing up just now.

Jungkook puffs out a breath and takes another look. Properly this time, blinking as if this could help his eyes focus better. Gorgeous. He can see the river from here, flowing through the town in curves, like a snake.

He can’t see the entire city, but most of it; it goes up and down. Skyscrapers and then cosy houses like the ones before again. Mountains far away and the lights of the amusement park somewhere in the east. They’re the brightest of them all.

“Wait,” he says; you oblige, waiting, watching as he heaves the camera out of his bag.

He only registers you from his side vision, but he thinks you’re wearing a smile; confirmed when you breathe to speak again, and his eyes drift to you, immediately decoding the pride in your sparkling pupils.

Why do you look proud? Then again, he guesses he would, too, if he showed you something that he loved and you enjoyed it, too.

Thinking about it, he kind of wants to do it someday.

He pulls at his lower lip, releasing it soon, blinking again as if to release the thought. Instead, he listens as you ask, “You’ve never been here before?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hidden spot then.”

“It’s beautiful. Look there,” he points to a spot that you carefully follow, even squinting an eye shut; it makes him smile. “That’s the ferris wheel in the amusement park. Can you see? Wait.”

The camera comes to use when he points the lens at the direction he signalled towards, nimble hands working on zooming in. The picture unfocuses before the lights of the amusement park flicker again.

It’s late, he thinks; then again, the summer is coming to an end, the last nights used to keep such attractions open late. September will bring forth grey clouds again, leaving behind the prior season’s heat. Raining down on him, forcing the leather jacket out of his closet.

He likes it that way.

No offence to the summer whatsoever; but he likes the fresh gust dishevelling his soft hair. Likes it when the rain patters against the window glass so softly. He sleeps better that way, too.

Barely sitting for a moment, Jungkook already gets to his feet, nearing the edge until he’s kneeling on the ground. The distance has only faded by a couple feet, not much of a difference. But the feeling of the city nearing still persists somehow, tickling his mind just right.

He doesn’t know how long he squats there against the backdrop of the luminescent sea, but when he comes back to you, you’re still sporting that excited smile, eyebrows high. Your eyes fall to the camera, humming when he says, “Look. There.”

He magnifies the picture, every spot of it good enough to pin against the living room wall. Carefully, he hands you the camera; surprising, because he regards this pricey piece of plastic as sacred. You probably don’t know how big of a deal it is that he lets you handle it.

If you did, you’d never let him live it down.

You scoot closer, your temple now nearly touching his. You stare with an interest he hasn’t witnessed too often before. People do not care much about pictures of scenery; in the age of media, how could they anyway? When every stock picture is already memorised and used to the point of insignificance?

But you — your mouth parts as you switch around, taking in details.

“Good?” he asks.

“Beautiful,” you sincerely mutter, returning the camera to him. You hold it like a kitten; perhaps you do know what the gesture meant. “This is exactly why I wanted us to come here.”

The moment is so serene, like balm, and he nods along with your words, calmly conversing. So it takes a heartbeat to truly untangle your words in his mind and tie them with the meaning your intention conveys.

He assumed you were just showing him random spots of the town, to allow him a glimpse into your mind and to crack your true nature. All this time, he thought you wanted to lead him to bright spaces to lighten up his perception of you.

But what you’re doing instead is turn the spotlight towards him and what he loves.

“You… did it for me?” he asks.

You, casually, as if the thoughtful act doesn’t flood him with serotonin, reply, “Yeah. To capture a couple pretty pictures. You really do love it, so.”

“I do… wow, thanks.” He pauses. Looks down to the buttons on his camera, to his hands; then back to you. “You thought of it all, right? The nice places and the short rest at Jieun’s. Now this.”

“Hmm, tried as much as possible so spontaneously.”

“Thank you. Really.”

You return his gratitude with a polite nod, leaning away until you touch the backrest of the bench. Jungkook indulges in some more that nature offers, toying with the settings, zooming in just to observe sights from a closer point.

He doesn’t notice when you sigh or when you zone off; or when your thoughts shift back to the minutes and hours of the night. He doesn’t notice; and in return, you don’t know that he’s still thinking about the intention that brought him here; that you were attentive enough to truly show that some people appreciate art.

There aren’t only fleeting nights and then forgotten memories. Because this… this right here is a core memory.

Because of you.

Are you thinking the same? Are you proud that his enmity has faded, replaced by a tender smile? Satisfied that your efforts were worth it after all — a goal reached that you set for yourself earlier tonight.

Let me show you pretty places until the sun comes up, and if you still hate me by then, I will never talk to you again.

But…

He’d love to talk to you again.

However, your mind hasn’t quite drifted in this direction; in truth, he honestly can’t analyse or interpret you at all, because the question you pose next is far from what he’d been thinking about.

“Talking about pretty… uhm. Did you think Jieun was pretty?”

Jungkook blinks. One eyebrow cocks up; the camera drops back onto his lap. He flashes you a squinted look, a confused laugh erupting before he asks back, “What?”

“Ah, don’t lie. She’s very pretty.”

“Sure? She is.”

He’s nearly forgotten what she looked like. But beauty is still perceived and remembered — he guesses he found her good-looking.

“And she’s everyone’s type,” you prod, “what do you think, though? If she didn’t have a boyfriend, could you imagine liking her?”

Jungkook thinks about it. Not because he wants to, but because you seem to have found an odd interest in whatever attracts him; maybe your questions are leading up to something. So he’ll play along.

“Hmm… Maybe,” he answers.

“So she is your type.”

Or maybe, you’re trying to get something out of him that you want to hear specifically. You seem so shy about it all of a sudden; not necessarily an adjective he’d assign to you.

And coming from you of all people, he somehow does not find the topic interesting. It’s weird; he doesn’t want to talk about it; he doesn’t care about Jieun, either.

So he shrugs his shoulders indifferently, lifting his camera up again. He points it at you, eternalising your surprised expression just when you open your mouth to leave out a shocked, “Hey!”

“That’s what you get for asking such strange stuff.”

“It’s not strange! I’m just small-talking.”

“You do not small-talk.”

“It could be a deeper conversation if you just admitted it.”

He chuckles, turning his body towards you, half his leg on the bench, “Admit what?”

“The type thing!”

“Sure. I don’t just have one type, though, you know?”

The dispute brought your bodies a little closer, your face far enough for him to still identify his surroundings, but near enough for him to see your eyes twinkling. The light is dancing in them. And it’s much easier to focus on it when you silence like this.

Just for a second.

Because you breathe in again ten seconds later, lightly slapping the thigh resting on the bench. The touch is cursory, tiny, nothing to overthink about — but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to linger.

In some way, it still does.

You ask, “Okay? What are your types then?”

“Different girls.” This time, only one shoulder shoots up. His eyes match his pensive hum. “Whoever suits me. Pretty girls but also nice girls. Especially nice girls.”

“Alright, be honest,” you begin, mimicking his position until your leg lifts onto the bench, knee nearly touching his. You’re warming up now. Finally spitting the true question soon, “Do you think I’m pretty?”

Cute.

But he’s not giving in this easily.

He smirks; he feels the dimple on one side of his lopsided smile the moment you look at it. You’re distracted enough — so he uses the mental absence to attack you with yet another picture.

For a couple blinks, you’re startled — but as he reacts to his own nonsense with a content chortle, proud of his prank, you sigh. His shoulders rise with his sneering joy, head low as he inspects the picture just taken on his camera.

He zooms into your face, mouth open and eyes wide. You do look so pretty, he thinks — better even since you washed most of your make up off. Yet, he can’t contain himself when he shows you the screen, telling you, “You look alright.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes and your gaze to the view; your giggles start quietly, and then mix with his. Before—

They soon become part of a bad harmony as more voices join your very own night. Somebody is nearing. Jungkook hears the laughter already, but the road is curved and dark; so he can’t see them yet.

You might not have expected this, because you push closer to Jungkook on reflex; just at the same time as him. He didn’t know he had it in him to always stay so alert around you. Ready to throw himself at intruders.

Crazy.

But once the voices grow in volume, the two of you are soon met with a couple walking past. They’re in love, because amidst their titter, there’s another lewd sound. Or maybe, not too bad; playful kisses?

Yes.

The guy — he’s smooching his girl’s cheek, releasing with a, “Mwah” each time. Your initial surprise soon fades and turns into delight; Jungkook sees it in the way your smile returns. And in the furrowed yet amused eyebrows…

When the couple spots the two of you, they gasp; the girl’s hand immediately bolts to her chest, as if she just encountered a wild boar. But she catches herself soon, apologising, “Oh. Sorry. We’re sorry.”

You respond with an, “It’s okay!” Jungkook shakes his head politely to shrink their worries. They’ve walked away as soon as they came, but he still hears the woman’s scolding, effect lessened by the still occurring belly laugh, “I told you to calm yourself—”

As the world quietens again, Jungkook huffs, tilting his head as he deduces, “So late and yet… Not much of a hidden spot after all.”

“It feels like an ancient hill to me. I don’t often meet others here.” You breathe in the wind, then tongue your cheek. “They probably didn’t even notice where they were going. People in love never do.”

“I guess so.”

He guesses so.

It’s been a while since he fell in love.

Your head bobs once more before you lose yourself in the skyline, sucking in more of the crisp air that’ll grace you in the upcoming months. Fall is upon the town. He inbreathes the peace, too.

His hands operate on their own; one last time, he lifts it towards you, peeks through the lens again, adjusting the focus until the object clicks again. You’re not looking at him; he caught your side profile, this time not out of mock or tease.

He means it. And you seem to know.

Because when you look at him this time, you’re not mad or irritated.

Only look at him softly, a smile that truly matches the heights you took him on.

READ BELOW!!

the fic isn't over yet – as always, tumblr has a 1k block limit that makes our lives harder than necessary lmao. read the last scene and the remaining 3k words of meraki here 🥰

#jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook smut #bts smut #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #jungkook

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solarpunkwarlock · 1 year

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Ways to Live in Direct Opposition to Capitalism

I am by no means an expert in any of these things I’m gonna talk about, so keep that in mind! I am just making a compilation of things I know of that we can do to lessen the stranglehold the capitalist lifestyle has on us while enriching our lives, our surroundings, and the lives of others. Please add anything I miss or correct anything I may be getting wrong! Anyway here goes!

Use what you have, fix what’s you can, make what you can, accept from others, thrift what you can, and finally purchase as a last resort.

This is advice I have seen float around here a couple of times that can apply to a lot of things including clothing, furniture, food, and more besides. It’s meant to be done roughly in that order as it applies to what you’re wanting/needing/doing. It’s about preventing waste, promoting self-capability, having a heightened reliance on your community, and consciously rejecting the ingrained habit many of us have to just purchase things or services.

Here’s where you can read about growing an indoor garden!

Here’s where you can read about sewing things yourself!

Here’s an online site for giving and receiving items for free!

Here is where you can find a local Mutual Aid to get things from, learn skills from, give do, volunteer for, etc. (in the U.S.)

Be politically active! (from a U.S. perspective)

Vote for every election. Know your representatives and those who will be competing in the next election. Vote without ignorance and without falling for unfounded claims. While operating within the system that actively oppresses us will not bring about the future we want, it can serve as damage control (preventing worse candidates from taking office) and it can potentially create a national atmosphere more open to change.

Here’s a good article about getting more involved in the U.S. political process.

Here’s a site that will show you how to register to vote, when and where elections are held, and more!

Here’s good advice on finding protests in your city!

Here’s some readings on unionizing! It’s your legal right to unionize!

Here’s a more user friendly site for learning about unions!

Be active within your community!

Developing strong, motivated, capable, knowledgeable, and inclusive communities is the ultimate way to combat the relentless and bleak present and future. When you’ve worked on the things above and have gotten good at it (or even if you haven’t gotten good at it yet), start spreading what you know and what you can do with others!

Give your neighbors, coworkers, and friends some of the vegetables you’ve grown.

Invite your community members to volunteer events.

Talk to folks about how to vote, when you’re doing it, etc.

Take part in Mutual Aids to teach what you’ve learned or whatever you may be an expert in! Invite neighbors, friends, and coworkers when you take part in the Mutual Aid!

Accept your community. Take them for who and what they are. Discrimination is the enemy of cooperation. You have much more in common with everyone in your community than a single billionaire or corporation. We’re all passengers on this spaceship earth.

Do it one step at a time!

Obviously we can’t do all of these things at once. Do what you can when you can, and you’ll start to notice real change in your life!

Our online communities where we talk about our visions and hopes are fantastic, but they have little impact if we don’t actually get up and do the real work that change requires.

Want to be better, and keep hope for the future!

Harbor and nourish that desire to be a better person and to be the change you want to see in the world. You need to be hungry for a better future if you plan to make it through the rough times when everything feels pointless and without hope. Reach out to others when you’re down, and be someone others can lean on when their lives get hard.

That’s it! Please interact with this, spread it to others, and add your own thoughts and ideas! It’s important that we do the real work to get the change we crave!

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slytherintrikru · 1 year

Text

— || Revenge is Sweet || —

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x gryffindor!muggleborn!reader (SHE’S OF AGE)

Word count: 6224

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 16+, fingering, clit rubbing, cock in Vigina, male and female, adult content, adult language, cuss words, clit licking, degrading, fluff if you squint, pet names, anguish, cheating, heartbreak, revenge, crying, Lucius comforting Y/N?, aftercare, praise, daddy kink, cum swallowing, fluff, out of character Lucius, 2 almost 3 years after the 2nd wizarding war, younger woman with older man, first time together, heated make out session, kissing, hickeys, love bites, SFW if you squint. (SHE IS OF AGE)

Summary: Y/N wanted to surprise Draco by visiting him at the Malfoy Manor but ended up catching him cheating instead. While leaving she bumps into Lucius Malfoy and things get kinda heated. (SHE’S OF AGE)

Requested: by no one this is my idea

A/N: Hello, my fellow Dreamers, hope you like this. Please give me your feedback. BTW I also already posted this on my AO3 account @ slytherintrikru.

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Y/N navigated her way up the meandering, earthy path that led to the formidable gates of the Malfoy Manor. These gates, a grand testament to the opulence within, were adorned with wrought-iron craftsmanship that gleamed even in the muted light of dusk. Beyond the gates, a long, majestic driveway, flanked by a procession of ancient trees, guided her toward the mansion's imposing facade. Standing before her, the Malfoy Manor exuded an aura of architectural splendor. Its stately stone walls rose gracefully, adorned with intricate details that whispered of centuries past. Tall, narrow windows punctuated the facade, their panes seeming to conceal secrets within, bestowing upon the house an air of sinister allure.

The estate on which the manor resided was vast and mysterious. A dark forest encroached upon the edges of the property, casting eerie shadows that played hide-and-seek with the waning daylight. In stark contrast to this enigmatic woodland, a lush and meticulously cultivated garden graced the manor's rear, a testament to the Malfoy family's penchant for grandeur and elegance.

With each deliberate step, Y/N's heartbeat quickened. Her trembling hand reached out to rap upon the massive, wooden double doors that guarded the entrance. She couldn't have fathomed that she would ever find herself returning to this nightmarish place, where the echoes of her torment at the hands of Voldemort and his fanatical followers still reverberated in the depths of her memory. It had been two agonizing years since that fateful day when Fenrir Greyback had dragged her through those very doors, her hair pulled viciously as she struggled to match the monstrous pace set by her captor. The same mansion had borne witness to her harrowing encounter with the Dark Lord himself, the malevolent figure who had imprinted the dreaded Death Eater mark upon her left arm—a mark she had desperately sought to eradicate for almost three long years.

The reason for her presence here, despite the haunting memories, was her enduring love for Draco. Three years had passed since the inception of their clandestine relationship, but their bond remained unshaken. Draco's parents, however, were a formidable obstacle in their path. They looked down upon her as a 'filthy Mudblood,' a fact that had never deterred her resolve, so long as Draco stood by her side. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy had resorted to devious tactics, attempting to buy her loyalty, attempting to pry her away from their son. Their efforts had met with stubborn resistance, leaving them fuming with frustration. On countless occasions, they subjected her to scathing tirades, especially Narcissa, whose cruelty knew no bounds. After a week, Lucius resigned to a sullen silence, but Narcissa's venomous words and occasionally physical aggression persisted as a daily ordeal that Y/N endured with steely determination.

Y/N flinched as the manor door creaked open, her reaction akin to that of someone stumbling into a jinx. Her startled gaze dropped to the floor, where a familiar figure stood. It was Rue, the endearing house elf, a cherished presence in Y/N's life.

"What can Rue do for Draco's lovely girlfriend?" Rue inquired, her lips curving into a warm, welcoming smile.

Y/N couldn't help but smile in return; Rue had always held a special place in her heart. With her bright blue eyes and those endearing pointy ears, Rue exuded an unmistakable charm. Not only did she anticipate Y/N's every need, but she also prepared food and drinks precisely to Y/N's liking. Since the law against elf brutality had been enacted, Y/N had taken it upon herself to ensure Rue's comfort, providing her with clothing. Over the months, Rue had transformed, shedding the weight of servitude to become a happier, more carefree presence.

"I'd like to see Draco, please, Rue," Y/N replied, her voice gentle and careful not to startle the petite house elf.

Rue's smile widened, and with a tiny, reassuring grip on Y/N's hand, she led her inside. As the door closed softly behind them, Rue spoke again, her voice filled with an eagerness to assist. "Master Draco is in his room. Rue will take you."

Y/N hesitated for a moment, a playful idea forming in her mind. "No, no, it's fine. I can go myself. I want to surprise him."

The adorable house elf nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. With a snap of her fingers, she vanished from sight, leaving Y/N to navigate the winding corridors of the Malfoy Manor alone.

Y/N couldn't help but grin at the thought of Rue experiencing a moment of personal indulgence, wondering if the house elf was trying to savor the pleasures she had missed in her life of servitude. With that pleasant thought, Y/N embarked on her ascent up the many flights of wooden stairs that led to the upper reaches of the manor. Her footsteps echoed softly through the hallway as she made her way toward Draco's room.

As she arrived at her destination, Y/N came to an abrupt halt, her senses keenly attuned to an unexpected sound emanating from behind Draco's door. She strained her ears, desperately hoping it wasn't a case of accidentally stumbling upon an intimate moment between Lucius and Narcissa. A glance at the door's label confirmed it was indeed Draco's room, and then she heard it again.

Moans.

Specifically, the unmistakable sounds of male and female moans. Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she leaned closer to the door, attempting to confirm what she dreaded most. She heard his name, Draco's name, whimpered from a female voice within, a voice that sent shockwaves through her.

Her blood ran cold, her heart rate spiked, and tears welled up in her eyes. Y/N prayed it wasn't true, that Draco wasn't betraying her. She cautiously pushed the door open, her movements silent as she observed the heart-wrenching scene before her. Draco, lost in passion, buried his face in Astoria Greengrass's neck, his vigorous thrusts filling the room.

Their eyes met, Y/N's and Astoria's, in a moment of cruel recognition. Astoria's smirk seemed to taunt Y/N, as if declaring, 'He's mine now, you filthy Mudblood.' With a heavy heart, Y/N gently closed the door, tears streaming down her face. She turned and fled down the hallway, down the stairs, without a care for her surroundings or the possibility of colliding with someone.

Tears flowed freely as Y/N reached the bottom of the stairs, her heart shattering into a million pieces. Her cries escaped in a heartbreaking crescendo, echoing through the manor's grandeur. In her distraught state, she collided with an unexpected presence, teetering dangerously on the brink of falling backward. However, strong arms enveloped her, steadying her in her moment of despair.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing, girl?" The voice, dripping with disdain, hissed through the tense air. Y/N's heart lurched at the sound, her gut telling her it was all too familiar. As her tear-blurred gaze lifted, she was met with the sight of a thoroughly baffled and irate Lucius Malfoy, his aristocratic features etched with a mix of anger and confusion. Her own expressive eyes, a mesmerizing shade of E/C, locked onto his cold, steely gray ones.

Blinking away the tears that blurred her vision, she stared at the formidable pureblood wizard who stood before her. Their eye contact held an unspoken tension, a connection fraught with history and complex emotions. It was in that moment that Y/N noticed something she hadn't expected in Lucius – concern. The realization was like a jolt, sending a shiver down her spine.

Concern?

It couldn't be right, could it? Why on earth would Lucius Malfoy, of all people, be concerned about her well-being? Y/N hesitated, her hand instinctively rising to wipe her eyes once more, as if questioning her own senses, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her. But the look in Lucius's eyes remained, a glimmer of unexpected humanity in the formidable man who had long been an enigma to her.

"Are you going to speak, or just stand there like a dumb-witted Mudblood?" Lucius's words, laced with venom, cut through the heavy silence. Y/N turned away from him, hurt etched in her eyes, his cruel words piercing her heart. In that moment, the gap between them seemed insurmountable.

Lucius, however, couldn't ignore the pain he had inadvertently caused, and for a fleeting second, remorse tugged at his conscience. Yet, his pride prevailed, and instead of apologizing, he pressed further, his tone demanding answers. "What's wrong with you, girl?"

Y/N pulled herself away from him, a mixture of emotions welling up inside her. She hesitated for a moment, then her voice trembled as she questioned him, "W-Why do y-you care?"

The unexpected vulnerability in her voice caught Lucius off guard, and a flicker of something uncharacteristic passed through his stormy gray eyes. He blocked her path as she attempted to move past him, their proximity intensifying the tension between them. "Just because we got off to the wrong foot when we first met doesn't mean I'm the same person I was before," he hissed, a rare hint of vulnerability seeping into his words. "Now tell me what's wrong, or I'll use Legilimency on you."

Her defenses crumbling, Y/N couldn't hold back the flood of emotion any longer. The words tumbled out of her, her voice wavering as she confessed, "Your son cheated on me with Astoria, that's what happened." She glanced away, bracing herself for the judgment she anticipated. "You're probably happy that he's not with a filthy Mudblood like me anymore. I'll just—"

"He did what?!" Lucius's voice reverberated through the manor, his anger palpable as it resounded against the walls. Y/N glanced at him, a puzzled expression on her face. She couldn't comprehend why he would be so furious that his son, Draco, had cheated on her—a Mudblood—with a pureblood. Lucius Malfoy had never harbored any warmth toward Y/N, so this sudden outburst was baffling. She had always assumed that Draco's parents would be delighted if something like this were to happen.

Lucius's voice, filled with indignation, interrupted her thoughts once more. "How dare that boy break someone's heart instead of just telling you that he wants to end the relationship. I raised him to treat women with respect. Even if the girl is a filthy Mudblood!"

Y/N frowned, her gaze drifting downward to her feet, unable to meet Lucius's eyes. His words were laden with a complex mixture of anger, disappointment, and something she couldn't quite fathom.

"Why would you care anyway? You should be happy that he cheated on me. Now he can go marry a pureblood who's more beautiful than me," she muttered bitterly, her self-esteem shattered.

In an unexpected turn of events, the cold metal of the snake handle of Lucius's cane lifted her chin. She blinked in surprise as he swiftly pulled his cane away and grasped her chin roughly with his hand, forcing her to hold eye contact with him.

"Don't ever say those words again. Am. I. Understand, Y/N?" Lucius's voice, though stern, held a strange mixture of concern. She nodded in response, but it seemed that wasn't sufficient for him. He demanded more. "I expect you to answer when I ask you something!"

"Y-Yes, Sir!" she squeaked, her gaze locked onto his features. She couldn't help but notice the commanding presence he exuded, the sharp lines of his jaw, the strength evident in his angular face. His long, platinum blonde hair cascaded gracefully past his shoulders, framing his striking countenance. The blueish-gray eyes that held an air of authority seemed to peer directly into her soul. Y/N's cheeks flushed inexplicably as she found herself momentarily entranced by his striking appearance. ‘He's handsome’, she thought, a realization that seemed to take her by surprise.

Y/N's unspoken admiration for Lucius had been a well-guarded secret, a silent confession her heart made each time she crossed the threshold of the Malfoy Manor. Her heart would do a subtle dance of anticipation whenever she knew she'd encounter him, and a flush would steal across her cheeks, like a clandestine tribute to his striking presence. It was an irrational reaction, one she couldn't quite understand, given that Lucius had never hidden his disdain for her—well, at least, he hadn't before.

Lucius's trademark smirk played on his lips, but there was a curious shift in his demeanor. Gone was the initial cockiness, replaced by genuine amusement as he surveyed Y/N's puzzled expression. Her blush intensified, a shade that rivaled the crimson and gold of the Gryffindor house colors.

"You really think I'm handsome?" he probed, his tone now laced with curiosity. He leaned in closer, the proximity between them causing a subtle flutter in Y/N's heart. Lucius's eyes sparkled with a newfound charm as he awaited her response.

"I—what? I didn't—" she stammered, but her words were abruptly silenced.

"Legilimens, my darling girl," Lucius smoothly interrupted. His smirk remained, but it was tinged with a magnetic confidence that left her feeling exposed. He leaned even closer, his lips brushing against her ear, and he whispered softly, his voice a provocative caress, "Ah, yes. It appears you've conveniently forgotten that I possess the ability to delve into your mind. You see, I heard every thought you've had about me. Like your secret desire for me to pin you down on my bed, to make you forget how to walk."

Y/N's eyes widened, her cheeks aflame with embarrassment. Her heart raced, and she felt a shiver of vulnerability wash over her. Lucius's audacious revelation had unraveled a new layer of intrigue and desire, transforming their dynamic into something far more intricate and captivating.

She gasped, disbelief coursing through her. Could he truly have been privy to her every innermost thought? It felt surreal, like a dream she was unable to awaken from. In an attempt to regain her composure, she instinctively retreated a step, allowing her gaze to lock with his. His eyes held the same intense emotion she had noticed earlier – a smoldering, undeniable lust that sent a tingle down her spine. He leaned closer, his body almost brushing against hers, and she could feel the heat radiating from him.

"That's the very reason I've maintained my distance from you all these months," he admitted, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability beneath its low, seductive tone. "After my ex-wife and I discovered the truth about you and my son's relationship, I tried to keep my demeanor cold. Yet every night, unable to control my desires, I found myself lost in fantasies of you," he confessed, his words a hushed, intimate secret shared between them.

A blush painted her cheeks once more as his voice whispered sensually into her ear, sending shivers coursing down her spine. His hands found their way to her sides, exerting a gentle, yet possessive squeeze. She couldn't help but shudder at his touch.

"My son is a fool for betraying such a beautiful, enchanting nymph like you," he purred, his lips grazing the tender skin just below her earlobe. His kisses left a fiery trail down her neck, only to ascend slowly back towards her lips. When their mouths met, it was as though a swarm of butterflies took flight in her stomach, fluttering wildly. She didn't respond immediately, her brain struggling to catch up with the whirlwind of sensations. Gradually, she inhaled his intoxicating scent, responding to his kisses with a growing hunger of her own.

Y/N's moans of desire seemed to echo within the cavernous expanse of Lucius's opulent mansion. Every step she took away from the memory of Draco's betrayal and closer to Lucius felt like a transgressive leap into the unknown. The kiss, fueled by a volatile mix of guilt and longing, deepened with each passing second. It was a magnetic force pulling them closer together, their lips becoming the epicenter of their shared need.

Her fingers wove themselves deeper into Lucius's long, platinum blonde hair, the strands silky and cool to the touch. He couldn't help but groan in response, the sound a testament to the intensity of their connection. His powerful hands, previously residing at her sides, ventured boldly downward, reaching her shapely derrière. With a delicate yet firm touch, he squeezed, sending exhilarating waves of sensation through her body.

With a sudden surge of passion, Lucius lifted Y/N off her feet, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to maintain their electrifying kiss. The sensation of being carried by him, the firmness of his grip, and the heat of his body against hers were intoxicating. They ascended the grand staircase, their rhythmic ascent echoing through the mansion's ornate halls.

As they turned down the dimly lit hallway, the portraits of stern-faced ancestors bore witness to their clandestine rendezvous. The anticipation was palpable, each step a deliberate stride toward the unknown. The soft glow of moonlight spilled through heavy, brocade curtains, casting intricate patterns on the Persian rugs that lined the floor.

With an audacious display of strength and desire, Lucius kicked open the door to his lavishly appointed bedroom. The door swung wide with a creak, revealing a chamber bathed in shadows. The grandeur of the room was nothing short of breathtaking, with its sumptuous canopy bed, antique furnishings, and gilded accents. The room exuded an air of timeless elegance, a stark contrast to the illicit passion that had led them there. Yet, with another commanding kick, he shut the door behind them, sealing their secret within the confines of the room's opulent embrace.

In the opulent chamber, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtered through heavy curtains, he guided her towards his bed with a gentleness that belied the intense desire simmering between them. The sumptuous sheets, adorned with intricate patterns, awaited their embrace, a testament to the luxury that surrounded them. With a feather-light touch, he laid her down, the mattress conforming to the curves of her body like a lover's caress.

Desire surged between them, an irresistible force pulling them closer together. She eagerly wound her legs around him, her longing palpable. A deep, resonant chuckle rumbled from his chest, a seductive reverberation that filled the room. It was a sound that resonated with promise, the promise of what was to come.

His lips embarked on a slow descent down the delicate curve of her neck, leaving a trail of searing kisses in their wake. His teeth grazed her skin, eliciting sharp gasps and urgent moans from her trembling lips. Y/N's moans danced in harmony with the hushed symphony of their passion, their clandestine desires woven into every sound.

With a masterful touch, his hands began their sensual exploration, fingers tracing the contours of her body. He reached for the fabric of her shirt, the anticipation of their impending intimacy electrifying the air. But as he made to unveil her, he paused, gazing into her eyes with a mixture of tenderness and raw desire. His voice, a sultry whisper, hung in the air like an unspoken invitation, "Do you want to continue this?"

Her heart swelled with a heady blend of love and desire at his considerate question. It wasn't just about the act itself; it was about the connection they shared, the intimacy that extended beyond the physical. Her eyes met his, and she nodded in fervent agreement, but his gaze turned insistent, demanding more than a mere gesture.

She acquiesced, her voice a soft, breathless confession. "Yes, I want to continue."

With the patience of a man intoxicated by her presence, he lifted her shirt, revealing her in all her vulnerability and desire. Each moment was a deliberate act of unveiling, an exploration of the secrets they had kept hidden for too long. Her whimpers of longing grew more pronounced, a sweet symphony of passion that ignited the room.

Their discarded shirts lay scattered, forgotten remnants of the world they had left behind. Their lips collided once more, a fervent clash of desires. His hands, strong and gentle, cradled her face, deepening the kiss into a consuming blaze of longing. In this stolen moment, their connection transcended the physical, binding them together in a fiery embrace that defied the boundaries of reason and restraint.

In the cocoon of their desires, time seemed to slow, allowing them to savor every tantalizing moment. The room, adorned with rich, heavy curtains that filtered the moon's soft glow, bathed them in an otherworldly ambiance. They paused briefly to remove the remaining garments that clung to their heated bodies, leaving a trail of discarded clothing scattered haphazardly across the floor.

With a profound longing etched upon their faces, they surrendered to the pull of their desires. He took the initiative, his lips blazing a path of fiery kisses down her form. Every inch of her skin he touched seemed to ignite with desire, his teeth delicately grazing, and his mouth fervently claiming her.

One of his hands, large and commanding, found its place on her breast, the fingers expertly working her sensitive flesh. The other sought solace on her hip, the grip possessive yet tender. Y/N's response was immediate, her back arching sensually as she pressed herself closer to him. The room bore witness to her unrestrained passion, shadows playing tricks on their entangled figures.

The dimly lit room provided an intimate backdrop to their stolen moment, amplifying the intensity of their connection. She gasped, unable to stifle the whirlwind of sensations coursing through her body. Her longing and need reached a fevered pitch as his lips moved relentlessly over her skin.

This sensation was unlike anything she had ever encountered, not even with Draco. It was a heady concoction of raw desire and an emotional connection that left her feeling utterly exposed and vulnerable, yet simultaneously empowered and alive.

His lips reluctantly abandoned her chest, tracing a searing path downward, inching closer to the epicenter of her desire. Her hips reacted instinctively, a silent plea for more, a plea for him to satiate the burgeoning hunger that consumed her. In response, he chuckled darkly, a knowing grin playing upon his lips.

"So, so greedy for me, aren't you?" he purred, his voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down her spine. "I've barely even started, my little nymph, and you're already squirming."

Her moans grew in volume, punctuating the charged atmosphere. Her hips continued their rhythmic dance, a wordless invitation for him to delve deeper into her desires. Just as hope began to wane, he boldly ventured between her legs. His thumb found her eager clit, tracing slow, electrifying circles that sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. She couldn't help but gasp loudly, her moans intensifying as her body surrendered to his skillful touch.

“L-Lucius!” Y/N's fervent whimper hung in the air, a plea for more that only fueled Lucius's desire to push her further into the depths of pleasure. He reveled in the sound, a wicked grin playing upon his lips as he continued to work his magic. His fingers, slick with her arousal, glided effortlessly inside her, seeking out her g-spot with uncanny precision. The sensation of his touch sent electric jolts of pleasure coursing through her, her moans becoming a chorus of surrender.

The room seemed to close in around them, the ambiance heavy with the heady scent of their desire. Shadows danced seductively across the walls, an intimate audience to their clandestine tryst. Every subtle movement, every trembling breath, was magnified in the dim light, intensifying the eroticism of the moment.

Lucius's voice, a velvet caress of dominance, lured her deeper into submission. "That's right, my little slut," he whispered huskily, his words both an affirmation and a command. "Feel how good I'm making you. Did he ever make you feel like this? Did he know all the right spots to please you?"

She struggled to form coherent words, the pleasure he evoked rendering her speechless. Her response was a breathless admission of truth, punctuated by her moans of ecstasy. "N-No... aahh-"

Lucius's eyes bore into her with an intensity that left her feeling exposed and vulnerable, yet utterly consumed by desire. His fingers continued their relentless assault on her g-spot, her body quivering in response. Her pussy clenched around him, a physical manifestation of her escalating pleasure, and he couldn't help but grunt with satisfaction.

"My little slut," he growled, his voice dripping with unrestrained lust, "you've never felt this kind of pleasure before, have you? Well, let's make sure you're fully satisfied, my dear."

With each word, he propelled her further into the abyss of desire, his fingers dancing with a masterful touch that promised to fulfill her every longing. In the dimly lit room, their forbidden encounter continued, a symphony of passion and submission that echoed through the night.

Lucius's descent towards her quivering core was an agonizingly slow and tantalizing journey. His head moved lower, inch by tantalizing inch, until his mouth hovered just above her dripping wet pussy. The room, bathed in the soft, dim light of concealed passion, seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of the forbidden act about to unfold.

Y/N's body was a live wire, tingling with desire as his warm breath caressed her sensitive flesh. Her back arched in a primal response, a silent plea for him to continue, to grant her the pleasure she craved. The air was thick with tension, the electrifying atmosphere heightened by the palpable anticipation of what was to come.

With a deliberate, torturous slowness, his tongue made its first sensuous contact with her throbbing clit. Y/N's response was immediate and intense; she arched her back, a breathless gasp escaping her lips. Waves of desire surged through her, her hips rising to meet his mouth in a fervent demand for more. His tongue traced lazy circles around her clit, each pass a teasing caress that left her trembling with need.

Her hips moved in rhythmic desperation, bucking into his mouth as she sought to intensify the pleasure. Lucius, the master of seduction, had her in a hypnotic trance, his tongue shifting tactics to move from side to side, skillfully exploring every sensitive inch of her. He returned to her clit, sucking with a purposeful hunger that sent shivers coursing through her body. Her moans grew in intensity, a symphony of ecstasy that filled the room.

As if orchestrating a symphony of pleasure, his fingers joined the sensual dance, slick with her arousal. They thrust in and out with a relentless rhythm, each penetration hitting her g-spot with pinpoint accuracy. Y/N's body was a trembling instrument of desire, her moans and whimpers filling the room like a seductive melody.

A familiar sensation began to coil within her abdomen, growing in intensity with each tantalizing moment. Her pussy clenched around his fingers as the waves of pleasure overtook her. With a gasp that shattered the air, she climaxed, her body trembling in the throes of ecstasy.

Lucius's voice, thick with desire and dominance, broke through her post-orgasmic haze. "Good girl, my good girl," he murmured, his words both a praise and a command. Her cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and satisfaction. He withdrew his hand from her quivering pussy, his fingers glistening with her essence. With forceful insistence, he grasped her jaw, parting her lips and presenting his cum-covered fingers to her mouth. "Taste yourself, whore!" he demanded, his voice a potent blend of authority and lust, igniting a primal hunger within her.

The room, cloaked in shadows, seemed to hold its breath as Y/N's lips encircled Lucius's fingers, moving with an almost hypnotic rhythm as she licked and sucked them clean. Her tongue, eager and tantalizing, left no trace of her essence behind, and Lucius watched her with a predatory hunger that mirrored her own desire. With an excruciating slowness, he withdrew his fingers from her mouth, his grip shifting to encircle her delicate throat, a possessive hold that sent a jolt of excitement through her.

A deep, throaty chuckle resonated from Lucius, a dark sound that underscored his mastery over her. It was a symphony of submission, her whimper in response to his control weaving through the charged air. His other hand, which had been on her jaw, descended with purposeful intent to his throbbing cock. With tantalizing deliberation, he began to stroke himself, each languid movement of his hand a seductive overture to the impending climax of their desires.

Y/N grappled with a myriad of emotions. She knew she should be overwhelmed with guilt, entangled in an illicit affair with her ex-boyfriend's father. Yet, beneath the layers of her moral reservations, a burning desire and a thirst for revenge surged within her. She yearned to make her ex-boyfriend pay for his betrayal, to mend her shattered heart by indulging in the very act that had caused her so much pain.

Her internal turmoil was momentarily eclipsed as she felt the firm tip of his cock teasing her wet, throbbing pussy. The exquisite friction sent a shiver of anticipation coursing through her, and her moans and whimpers filled the room like a seductive aria. Her body was a symphony of need, the sultry dance of his cock against her clit driving her to the brink of ecstasy.

Lucius's voice, dripping with dominance and desire, anchored her in the present moment. "My little mudblood," he taunted, his words laden with a derogatory term that should have stung. Instead, the sultry timbre of his voice rendered her helpless, a willing captive to his seduction. "Is this what you've desired all this time? For a real man to fuck you, to slide his cock deep inside you and make you feel good?"

Despite the term, her moans and whimpers betrayed her true desires, her voice trembling with need. "Y-Yes, Daddy," she whimpered, her plea echoing through the room, a fervent entreaty for the fulfillment of her deepest, most forbidden fantasies. “ Please, fuck me!”

"Daddy? Hmm?" Lucius questioned, his voice dripping with irresistible seduction that hung in the air like a sultry promise. A low, dark chuckle followed, resonating with a wicked allure as his eyes sparkled with mischief and a hint of malevolence. It was a look that promised a thrilling journey into forbidden desires, an intoxicating blend of pleasure and danger.

The room, cloaked in shadows and secrecy, bore witness to their clandestine rendezvous—a sensual dance of dominance and submission that unfolded in hushed gasps and fervent touches. Lucius reveled in her surrender, delighting in the way the derogatory term slipped off his tongue, and, to his surprise, she seemed to share in that twisted pleasure. "My little mudblood is filthy, isn't she?" he continued, his words dripping with desire and a touch of cruelty. In their intimate connection, the term had evolved into an oddly cherished secret, symbolizing her eager willingness to plunge into the irresistible depths of their forbidden passions. "I like that."

With deliberate intent, Lucius poised himself at the edge of her ecstasy, the air thick with anticipation. He surged into her abruptly, a powerful thrust that drew an electrified whimper from Y/N. Her body responded instinctively, arching in response to the sudden intrusion, a wordless plea for more. Lucius groaned in satisfaction, luxuriating in the exquisite sensation of her tight, wet heat enveloping him.

"Daddy!" Y/N's moan, fervent and desperate, reverberated through the room, echoing the intensity of her longing and submission.

Lucius wasted no time in unleashing the primal depths of his desire, setting a relentless pace that sent tremors through the bed beneath them. Pleasure and pain intertwined as Y/N's body stretched to accommodate him, her moans and gasps forming a seductive symphony that filled the room. Each powerful thrust propelled her closer to the precipice of ecstasy, the headboard bearing witness to the fervor of their illicit union.

"F-Fuck," Lucius hissed, his voice a symphony of unquenchable desire as he intensified his rhythm. His hips surged against her with unrestrained lust, each collision sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. The room resounded with their shared passion, an intoxicating rhythm that reverberated through the air and ignited an inferno of sensations. “You’re so tight and wet, aaah- I’m going to have so much fun destroying this tight little hole of yours.”

The hand that encircled her throat tightened incrementally, a gesture of dominance that sent a thrill of arousal coursing through Y/N. Her fingers tangled in Lucius's long, platinum blonde hair, tugging gently as she sought to draw him closer. His primal groans and moans in response only served to deepen her desire, each intoxicating sound forging an unbreakable connection between them in the hidden world they had created.

Their moans, like an intricate duet, melded into an intoxicating symphony of desire, echoing through the dimly lit room. With each primal thrust, he plunged deeper and faster into her, igniting a passionate crescendo that left them both gasping for breath. Her heart raced in response to the electrifying pleasure coursing through her veins.

"Lucius—Lucius! Aaaahhh—fuck! Daddy!" Her words, a fervent chant of need and submission, spilled from her lips in breathless abandon. Her hips responded in kind, moving in a seductive rhythm that matched his powerful thrusts, a dance of desire that transcended the bounds of their forbidden liaison.

"So damn good! Aahh—yes! Oh fuck, my little mudblood knows how to please me," he growled with unapologetic desire, his voice a seductive purr that sent shivers cascading down her spine. His hips quickened their relentless pace, pounding into her with an unyielding urgency that caused the bed to groan and creak beneath them, a testament to the fierce intensity of their union. “Tell me how good I’m making you feel, slut!

Her moans swelled, a wild symphony of ecstasy and surrender that reverberated through the room like a siren's call. She clawed at the sheets beneath her, her fingers desperately seeking purchase in the soft fabric as waves of pleasure crashed over her. It was an exquisite torment, a tantalizing whirlwind of sensations that threatened to consume her entirely.

"Daddy, you—ahh—feel so good," she gasped, her voice trembling with a potent mix of longing and desperation. Her nails traced feverish patterns over his heated skin, leaving trails of tingling sensation in their wake. Her silent entreaty was clear: she yearned for him to take her harder, to claim her completely in the tempest of their shared passion. “You make me feel so good! You’re fucking me so much better than him.”

Amid the dimly lit room, their passionate entwining continued, each feverish moment adding a new layer to their shared desire. Lucius, a commanding figure, maintained his relentless thrusts, his dominance evident in every movement. Her fervent responses wove a tapestry of longing and ecstasy, their chemistry igniting the air around them.

"I know, my little nymph," he purred, his voice an intoxicating blend of pleasure and command. His grip on her tightened possessively, fingers leaving tantalizing imprints on her heated skin. "Cum for me, slut. Show me how good I make you feel." His words hung in the air like a seductive spell, sending electrifying shivers throughout her body.

With each powerful thrust, the tip of his cock skillfully teased her cervix, intensifying the delicious ache in the pit of her stomach. Their bodies moved in perfect unison, a dance that seemed to transcend the boundaries of time and reason, an intricate symphony of passion that left them breathless.

Lucius, releasing his hold on her throat, replaced it with his mouth, his lips and teeth marking her skin as he continued to slam into her with primal urgency. Love bites and passionate kisses adorned her flesh, evidence of their unrestrained fervor. They moved together, bodies melding into one, a force of nature that defied control. In a rapturous climax, they reached the pinnacle of their desire, their voices rising in unison, filling the room with their unrestrained passion.

As Lucius withdrew from her, a plaintive whimper escaped her lips, a testament to the aching desire that still clung to her. His triumphant smirk hinted at the pleasure he derived from her desperate longing. As he made his way to the bathroom to cleanse himself, her eyes remained fixed on the vacant space he had occupied, her body still tingling with the fading echoes of their intense union.

Upon his return, a damp cloth in hand, he approached her with eyes that held both tenderness and desire. Every stroke of the cloth was a gentle caress, an unspoken declaration of their strange intimacy. The discarded rag landed carelessly beside them, a forgotten relic of their fervent encounter.

"Go to sleep, my little nymph," he whispered, his arms enveloping her in a protective embrace. "I'll be here when you wake." His words were a soothing promise, lulling her into a cocoon of security and contentment that belied the complexity of their relationship.

She nestled against him, her heart aflutter with emotions that defied easy categorization. Despite the impending repercussions of their actions, she couldn't deny the profound satisfaction she felt. As her eyes fluttered closed, the only thought that remained was that revenge, in its twisted and tumultuous way, could be intoxicatingly sweet.

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sirensea14 · 7 months

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SMILING CRITTERS X BULLIED!READER

Scenario: you are friends with the smiling critters and one day, they found out you were being bullied (lets say there are (3) bully npc's in the cartoon lol)

These Cartoon counterparts seem to be a bit... ooc...

Warning: bullying, violence, "worst case scenario" added for dogday, craftycorn roasting, hoppy choosing violence and rejecting humanity, catnap being catnap, writing may be a bit sloppy and weird lol

A/n: this had got to be one of the most random ideas i had

DogDay

As the leader of the Smiling Critters and your friend, he tries to resolve this in a peaceful manner. He confronts the bullies with you tagged along and attempts to make them apologize to you and wants them to compensate by cleaning the school, canteen and the garden by a whole week.

Of course, the bullies won't do it, so he goes to the teachers to address the problem.

The bullies are punished and will have cleaning duties for more than a week.

Worst case scenario (because i wanted to /j):

If the bullies resorted to violence in an attempt to scare DogDay, he fought back and defended you. You ran for help but one got out of his reach and punched you, he bit the one/s he's fighting and rushed at your aid and barked at the bully. "DON'T YOU DARE HURT MY FRIEND AGAIN!!"

The bullies got scared and ran to the clinic but DogDay barked and chased them until they were punished by the nurse and teachers.

You asked DogDay if he was okay, he grinned at you with a thumbs up, saying, "Of course I am! I will never let anyone dim you down!"

You smiled at his conviction, you were happy that you had such a sunny friend.

Bobby BearHug

After knowing you were being bullied, she immediately went to confront them. You were so scared and you didn't want her to get hurt, but she reassured you she can handle it and winked.

Reaching the bullies' spot, she confronted them. The bulkies glared at you and you cowered behind the bear's back, "So i heard you were bullying my friend? You better pay for that. You must apologize to my friend, now" She hissed, crossing her arms. The bullies simply laughed.

Bobby didnt hesitate to punch the bully on his face. His nose bled. Bobby was a sweet soul, but she's a bear, a predator, a tough cookie to crack. "DO I HAVE TO REPEAT WHAT I SAID?! APOLOGIZE TO MY FRIEND. NOW."

The bullies apologized while trembling in fear. "You can go back to whatever business you are doing now," she said in sweetly, though, there was venom to it, "Dare try to bully my friend once more and I will make sure to tear your limbs apart, skin you alive and--"

You tapped Bobby's shoulder before she went on full detail. "Whoops!" She giggled, scratching the back of her head looking at you. "Now, GO HOME." She pointed out at them, "Please!" of course, she never forgets her manners. That's not very Bobby if she didnt mind her manners, even to her enemies.

KickinChicken

Oh expect this bird to not handle things peacefully, especially with you being hurt. You were away from him, doing your own things. He went to the bullies, but of course, he can't go alone. He knows he can't handle them so he asked DogDay and Hoppy to hop along with him.

Hoppy looked like she was about to murder someone... a baseball bat was with her. DogDay and Kickin talked it out first with the bullies. But when they wouldn't budge, Hoppy stepped in and handed Kickin the bat. "NOW, WHO WANTS TO GO FIRST?" He tapped the bat to his wing. DogDay was against it, but didn't protest, Hoppy was trying not to smirk at the bullies.

The 3 critters and the bullied were headed to your way. You got startled and scared but DogDay, Kickin and Hoppy immediately went to your side. "Now, APOLOGIZE." Kickin forced a smile at them, and they apologized to you.

After that, DogDay took them in for their punishment. Hoppy taked the bat back so that she can go back playing baseball with the others. You thabked Kickin for his action and he blushed, brushing it off as "nothing". You and him sat by a tree and watched the other critters play on the field.

Hoppy Hopscotch

"Wait--Hoppy!" Yoy tried to stop Hoppy from going to the bullies. But she immediately scolded you for being a coward for not telling her this, you explained they threatened you but she didn't listen. "THOSE MFS ARE NO MATCH FOR ME," she spat on the ground.

As soon as you twto spotted the bullies, she didn't waste any time and immediately launched her fists at them. Knocking them off guard. She didnt let any of them escape her wrath. And then she grabbed your hand to run and leave them alone in the open.

CraftyCorn

Crafty was aware of it. "Why aren't you telling me this? We're friends!" She yelled at you. You explained they were going to hurt you if--"Let's go to them!" Crafty smatched your hand and went to the bullies.

Before you knew it, you were corned by the bullies. Taunting and laughing at you two. At first, fear was on ghe unicorn's face but it immediately changed to anger. "You're bullying my friend! You know you shouldn't be doing that!"

"Oh yeah? What're you gonna do about it, horse piss? Your friend's quite a coward and seems to be undeserving to be here." One of the bullies taunted her.

"YOU INSULTING MY FRIEND SHOWS HOW MUCH YOU'RE SO INSECURE ABOUT YOURSELF, IT TELLS A LOT ABOUT YOU, YKNOW?" Crafty snapped.

"COWARD. UGLY. USELESS. TRASH. GOOD FOR NOTHING. YOUR BIRTH WAS A MISTAKE." She added. Then you two turned around and left, you can tell that crafty was so angry because of her trembling hooves. The bully targeted by Crafty's words cried while his other two friends mocked him for being a crybaby.

Moments later--"Ah! I'm sorry! I didnt mamage to make them apologize to you! Sorrysorrysorry--!" Crafty apologized to you. "No, no! It's okay, Crafty! What you said was way more satisfying," in all silliness, you stuck your tongue out. Crafty giggled and she went back to pher canvas,ready to paint another new piece,"oh? Whats that called?" You asked as she sketched out what seems to be shadows looming over a figure protecting a smaller one behind it, there were separated figures at their opposite side, seemingly the figure with shadiws protecting the smaller one from attackers.

"Oh this? I call it... 'Happy Snappy!"

PickyPiggy

Picky was uneasy that day. Ever since she knew you were being bullied, she wasted no time to gather all the trash and dump it anywhere where the bullies would have been to. "HEHEHEHEHE..." The bullies ended up getting scolded by the teachers for dumping 'their' trash around. Pickypiggy snickered behind a tree, watching them from afar. She was quite fast and undetectable.

The bullies bags' had trash in them, their armchairs full of waste.

Then she tricked them into meeting up in a corner, she had full trash cans up on the roof, Hoppy and Kickin assisting her. Then they dumped the pile at them. You took the chance to run and report it to the teachers.

The trio fist bumped in victory and Picky was grateful for their help. She went back to you as you told her the weird thing that happened to the bullies--while eating cookies together.

Bubba Bubbaphant

The smart guy of the group. He was devastated at the fact that you didnt told him anything about your situation. He confronted them in full glasses nerd mode on, you came up to him and told him not to challenge them any further. He ended up getting beaten up by the bullies, he wasnt able to fight. Good thing DogDay was patrolling the area nearbt you.

Bubba was sent to a clinic, but he talked to DogDay first for a special request.

The next day, "man, this room sucks." One of the bullies complained. "What are we doing here anyway?" One of them groaned. They were in detention for two weeks, "How are we supposed to go to our classes now?"

Just in time, Bubba walked inside the room, "Okay class, I'll be your teacher for the next two weeks." He sneered at them. The bullies groaned at him as he wrote down a hell of math on the board. "This is your punishment for bullying a friend of mine, bear with it, losers."

CatNap

And of course, CatNap. He was a sleepyhead of a friend, when he knew you were being bullied, he simply 'slept'.

By nighttime, he went one by one to the bullies' houses. Scaring them and making them scream so loud. He was giving them nightmares with the message of "VIOLENCE OR SILENCE?" This went on for a long time until they gave up bullying you and went on full silent mode.

CatNap still haunts them even if they stopped bullying you.

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o-sachi · 2 months

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Featherlight ‧₊˚ ⋅ One Shot (Request)

ଳ Feeling stressed and burnt out from studying? Good thing Ume's here to lift up your spirits

ଳ character; umemiya hajime (wind breaker)

ଳ tags; gn reader, no y/n, fluff, ume's tomatoes !

It has been exactly 2 hours already.

He wouldn't normally pull out his phone while gardening, putting his phone at risk of getting soil in its crevices. But he felt restless and the only thing placating him was if he was able to check the clock from time to time.

Ume sighs, shoving the device into his back pocket before glancing over to you.

A couple of feet away, you were sat leisurely on a beach chair which contrasted the graffiti ridden walls of Furin's rooftop. Your eyebrows were furrowed with a notebook held closely to your face as if the nearer it was—the more information you'd absorb. Every now and then you'd let out a deep sigh which most likely meant you encountered something difficult in whatever it is that you were studying.

The urge to snatch the papers from your hands was getting unbearable for Ume. He knows how you work yourself to the bone—studying relentlessly all for the academic validation that you cherish so dearly. He admires your determination, but as your boyfriend, he cared more about your well-being.

He respected your decision—if you wanted to study, then he'll gladly support you. Ume would happily tend to his tomatoes quietly while you go over your material for the nth time of the day.

Well... maybe not "quietly."

His white shirt completely clung to his back—a result of gardening for hours. Even his usually soft hair had become like stiff peaks as they drooped down on his forehead the more sweat it accumulated.

He wiped away the sweat that ran down his temple with the back of his hand, pulling away for a moment to admire the shiny crimson color of his prized tomatoes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a tomato smaller than the rest. Its skin was wrinkled on one side—clearly, it wasn't healthy. He reached out to gently touch the fruit with his calloused fingertips, a slight frown forming on his face.

"You've been neglected huh? Poor little thing," he mumbled. "It's okay, we've all been there."

As engrossed as you were, him speaking out of the blue wouldn't go unnoticed at all. Your eyebrow quirks at his words. They had double meaning; you were so sure of it.

You sat up straighter, setting the notebook on your lap momentarily—taking the chance to gaze at him.

"Neglected? Do you really feel that way?"

He kept his sweat-drenched back facing you, refusing to show the pout that had formed on his face. "I was talking about the tomato. Not me," he answered.

You knew better, of course.

"Seriously..." You sluggishly pushed yourself off of the chair, leaving your study materials behind. A brief chat with him won't hurt your schedule, so you made your way over to him. As you stood closer, you could see the sweat running down his nape and how the soil had left marks on his arms.

"Do you really feel like I neglect you?"

The question hung heavy in the air. Asking it out loud made you realize the possible disparity between how the two of you see your relationship. You might believe that the time you spend together was enough, but he might be thinking otherwise.

But, really, you were fretting over nothing. Unbeknownst to you, he was smirking to himself. He figured that asking you to stop studying wouldn't work, so he resorted to appealing to your emotions for him instead.

Was it manipulative? Kind of. Definitely. But it worked though, didn't it?

All's well that ends well, he thought. It was for your own good anyway. Nothing a hug and comforting words can't fix later on.

Stepping to his side, you copy him and crouch down. Knee joints pop which effectively catch his attention. As much as he'd like to keep up his facade, his expression softened automatically upon seeing you—the way you hugged your knees to your chest and the way your eyes filled with worry.

"Sorry..." you mumble. With pursed lips, you lowered your gaze—preferring to admire the tomatoes instead of making eye contact with him.

He sighs at your bashfulness, bringing a hand over to your head and ruffling your hair affectionately. "What're you apologizing for hm?"

The question was rhetorical—obviously he knew why you were apologizing. But this was enough for him; any more and you'd feel too bad about yourself.

He retracted his hand from your head, draping it across your shoulders instead. If he wasn't strong, you would have probably lost balance and knocked him over as he pulled you towards him.

Never mind that he was covered in perspiration, dirt, and whatever else—feeling his warmth after its absence for so long felt relieving.

He pulled both of you up effortlessly. Ume clutched your body tightly against his, leaving no room between the two of you. Your face planted directly on to his chest. The cotton shirt felt mushy against your powdered cheek and his scent made your face scrunch up a bit. But regardless, you showed no resistance to his affection.

"Hey now..." he cooed into your ear. "I was just kidding. I couldn't think of any other way to get you to rest, so..."

The last few words were left unsaid as he was sure you knew what he meant anyway. You pry yourself off of him, peeling your face from his chest. "But you know I need to study right? I can't fail... I have exams coming up and I even have to study for the entrance exam. You know how important it is for me to get into that school, right? I have to because-"

He cuts off your rant. "Because you need it to become a good dentist—I know, baby. I know that. And you will."

Ume cups your cheek tenderly. For a hand that has experienced countless of fights, it surprisingly felt delicate when it touched you. "You work hard and it always pays off, right? When have you failed hm?"

"...Well, I haven't failed... yet."

He chuckles and you feel the rumble of his chest reverberate through your own. Pessimistic as you are with your studies, he found it strangely endearing. "Aw c'mon. Do you really think you'll fail any of your exams with how diligent you are?"

It was like he could predict your response because as you opened your mouth to answer, he quickly shut you up by placing a finger against your pillowy lips. "Don't answer that," he says.

"How about you help me remove the weeds from my tomato plants? Consider it as your rest time then, you can go back to studying teeth or whatever."

A toothy grin spreads across his face. Seeing him like that makes it impossible to refuse him. You relented in the end—perhaps the rest would do you some good and your caring boyfriend does deserve some quality time with you.

You both went back to crouching over the tomato plants. Ume quickly worked through the weeds that have embedded themselves into the soil, usurping the plants of their nutrients. You nimbly and slowly worked beside him. He could tell by your focused expression that you were having a tough time discerning the weeds from the actual plant.

He taught you how to properly weed the plants without damaging the roots. He was patient and enthusiastic—like usual. In just a short period of time, you learned a lot about tomatoes and plants. Ume did ramble a lot about them as you worked. You smiled at his child-like ardor. Sure, these things won't help you pass exams, but it surely alleviated you of your stress and frustrations.

Just like when he'd sweep you off your feet—his words and his thoughtfulness got rid of the heavy feeling on your chest. It was like his presence alone was enough to erase all your worries in this world.

Umemiya Hajime was the sunshine of your life that made you feel as light as a feather.

After you had successfully removed all the weeds from the tomato plants, he gave you a pat on the back for the job well done. Although... you probably only went through a maximum of 5 pots. But Ume was proud nonetheless.

You huffed out and stood up, ready to return to reality. "Well... I should go study now."

He followed suit, walking over to you as you sat back down on the beach chair. You were already wary of the cheeky smile that was on his face.

"I got an idea."

"Hm?" you inquire, looking up at him.

"What if... I bit your arm before your exam so it leaves a mark and you have a copy of a set of teeth? You know... if they ask you to draw them."

"Baby... I don't think they'll ask me to draw teeth."

"Um... insipiration? Won't it remind you of me?"

You sigh. "Just give me a kiss before the exam like a normal person."

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

#hajime umemiya #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker #umemiya x reader #umemiya hajime

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ilovejeongintoo · 3 months

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𝔸 ℝ𝕚𝕤𝕜 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕙 𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘

!WARNING NSFW Content ahead! !MDNI!

Genre: Fantasy, Rich man Yunho x Thief Reader, Warnings: Handcuffs, implied mafia?, implied yandere behaviour, unprotected sex(smh), slight praise, name calling (dear) Wordcount: 3353 Not proofread

Yunho drives me mad, he's just so...ugh, there aren't words that are worthy enough to describe him. Also I wrote this at like 2 am.

Summary: A thrill-seeking burglary, driven by a craving for adrenaline, you break into the grand Jeong Estate to steal a priceless necklace. Equipped with skills from past heists you're dressed for stealth, the owner unexpectedly decides to make an appearance and punish you in his own way.

Out of all the things that you would do, this one was probably the craziest, no this is the craziest idea ever. Sure, you've done stupid things before but this one was going to take the cake, even if you were fully prepared.

Your mother had always told you, this hobby of yours would get you in trouble. For her you were a "normal" kind of adrenaline junkie, bungee jumping, paragliding, rock climbing, something that was in a controlled environment but would still get your heart racing. Your blood pumping. When that didn't satisfy you anymore though, you turned over a different leaf, starting with cliff diving and some urban exploring, graffiti, crimes that's what this hobby of yours turned into. Especially little crimes that involved stealing something, from a store, a jacket, a purse your hands were quite skilled at the task and the feeling you got from it was just too addictive to stop.

And after a stupid night with an even more stupid idea from your friends you were here now, a block down from the biggest estate in the city. The Jeong Estate.

The idea was stuck in your brain like gum on your shoe and you wouldn't leave until that itch inside of you was cleansed. The worst thing was, this was completely solo, from the planning, to going through with this.

It was simple really, sneak around the cameras, hopefully find some open entrance, if not you'd get entry in some way. You learned a few things about security systems from rich homes like these, they all worked the same, so you'd be able to deactivate it, you just didn't know for how long, that's why that was as a last resort.

You honestly looked like a burglar, the dark leather jacket, black jeans with an old black t-shirt and a black cap. In case you were somehow caught, they wouldn't recognize you.

You just had to get in, find something worth taking and then get out. And that undetected.

Interesting enough the whole layout of the mansion was on the internet, you guessed they like to brag about their wealth and how many bathrooms one could possibly need.

There were multiple interviews taken in the house, pictures of the outside, inside, around it, with a little bit of smart thinking you'd be able to sneak past any cameras where they wouldn't be able to detect you.

Because of their huge security set up, they didn't think to have any guards, the place completely empty, anyone that was going to try anything had a death wish. And you wouldn't pass up on the thrill of escaping that mansion with a little souvenir that you'd pull out and brag to your friends about.

You could already imagine the dumb, shocked faces they'd pull when you got back. You stepped out of your car, combat boots hitting the ground, you only got a small bag, as to not make your form any bigger. You decided the back was safer to gain entry, less cameras more blind sports as well, with the huge maze-like garden blocking your silhouette from everything, combined with the darkness of the night, this was going to be a walk in the park. your heart was racing though, not even inside yet. You checked various doors and windows hoping someone left at least one open with a house this big, poor luck.

You guess that meant plan B was officially going to commence. You whipped out your phone connecting with the security system in a matter of minutes with the closeness, there seemed to be a manual lever hidden just close to you, that was the only thing you couldn't find amongst the endless photos taken of this place. You opened a small metal box being faced with a control panel, thankfully each button had some words on them, not making you guess what each does. You clicked one and then another to confirm it, the cameras immediately losing their red recording light, and the alarm presumably being off now.

You grabbed a rock off the expensive looking assortment next to a little pond and smashed it against a glass door. Sliding your hand in and turning the knob, it slid open, and you were officially in. No going back. You gulped the nerves hitting a little harder, but your excitement burnt even more. Turning the lamp on your flashlight, you snuck around a little, figuring out which hallway you were in, looking at a few vases, might take one of those.

But you were actually on the lookout for a particular door, leading to a secret treasure room. The Jeong family apparently liked collecting stuff a lot, paintings, statues, jewelry. You were going to go for a specific necklace, only one in the world and it was here, so close to you. You moved further down, passing high chandeliers and a set of stairs. The doors couldn't be missed, big embroidery and golden accents making it stand out even more than everything that you've seen here yet, however that was possible. You pushed it open, startled of it not being closed. There wasn't anyone inside, thank God.

You looked around the room, in awe. It was filled to the brim, to each treasure a sign explaining it was from or what it symbolized. As you watched each one with interest your eyes landed on the glass in the middle of the room, encased in it was the necklace you were here for. What you would be taking home. You walked up to it, your boots squeaking a little on the oak wooden floor.

You pressed your gloved fingers onto the glass, admiring the piece inside. You would obviously have to break it and then sneak out again. You brought some equipment just for this, obviously they didn't have normal glass around these national treasures. You got a laser cutter for a pretty dime, and you'd leave with something worth every coin spent on this device. You put your bag down, going through it, setting up the little machine, turning on the flame and testing it a few times. You were just about to cut it when you heard some noise.

Which wasn't you for sure. You immediately panicked a little and turned the thingy off reaching for your bag and pulling it behind the counter of the necklace, hiding behind it. There wasn't any reason that someone would just come in here. Or was there?

You were mentally going through every scenario that was about to happen. Your palms sweating, heart bursting out of your chest. You had to calm down a little or you'd make stupid decisions right this second. The racing of your little heart was promptly stopped by the door creaking open, the clanking of shoes evident in the spacious room. Definitely dress shoes, definitely someone that lived here. It was okay. They didn't know you were here. They were probably just having some weird midnight museum tour here. This was probably just some rich person behavior, going to your own treasure haven at the dead of night, yeah, must be it.

The steps grew closer and thus louder. You prayed they wouldn't walk around the counter and see you, briefly you regretted ever coming here but you did get what you wanted, a thrill.

You held your breath when the sounds of those shoes stopped. Listening intently for what was about to happen and staying alert. Just when you were trying to get ahold of your breathing again, there was some fast movement, a click, a shove, and you were on the ground. Looking up, you saw your one hand cuffed to a bar embedded into the counter. And some very shiny looking shoes, that were now directly in front of you. You moved your gaze slowly up, black slacks, further there was a simple shirt and a black tie. Who the hell wears those in their own home? And finally, a rather young-looking dude, you'd have expected a man in his fifties by the clothing choice. The black-haired man didn't looked like he was in his mid-twenties, slightly older than you.

Your bows furrowed at that. His deep voice was the next thing that shocked you as he leaned down, setting himself on his haunches.

"Now what do we have here? A little mouse lingering in my house." There was no way that this was the Jeong Yunho, he was just way too… young, for a successful multi-millionaire. You didn't realize that you haven't responded.

"I was wondering what crawled in when I heard some noises, you ought to be more careful than that." He smiled mockingly.

You were trying to keep your gaze away from him, not wanting him to catch even a single glance of your features, he might just let you go. Who are you even kidding? Fat chance, you were lucky if you made it out of here alive now, genuine fear setting in.

He kept trying to move his face to yours, obviously wanting to look at the intruder that snuck in, but you just turned in the other direction. Having enough of your attitude he gripped your jaw in his hand, your free one trying to pry him off of you. He turned you to him and knocked the hat off your head.

You stared into his eyes, not wanting to get intimidated no matter how much money this guy had. You wouldn’t be intimidated by a pretty, rich boy that was born with a silver spoon.

"Happy now?" You questioned. His hand left your face.

"Oh, so she does talk, and she's got some fire." That grin just wouldn't leave his face, it was so goddamn punchable even if it was a shame to ruin.

Maybe violence was next on your hobby list of crimes. If looks could kill, he would be buried six feet under, your glare was burning a hole through his face.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of you visiting my home?" Any words that came out of his mouth made you want to shut him up. If it was with a fist or a kiss you honestly didn't care.

"Why don't you take a guess?" You wouldn't answer anything with a guy like this squeezing you into a little corner. Which was risky to say the least.

"Well… judging by the get up and the fact that I found you here, means you were planning on stealing something." No shit sherlock, for what other reason do people break in.

You gave him a deadpan look.

"Oh, come on, this is the most interesting thing that has happened here in a while, usually, people get caught by the alarm or cameras before even making it inside."

"Makes me wonder how you made it this far." He looked you over, studying you, analyzing.

This was probably the best time to convince him of letting you go, somehow. "Look, I'm sorry okay, this was stupid, I'll pay for the broken glass and just leave."

"See now, that just won't work. I can't just "let you go", that'll just make me look bad if it comes out that I just let little thieves like you come and go."

"I have to set an example." What the fuck does he mean by that?

You hadn't even thought about what kind of people lived here, for all you could know this was some secret mafia family that built their empire on corpses. Sure, sounded like it.

"I promise I won't talk; I won't do this again."

"You really expect me to believe that?" He raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

"Trust me, I'll make sure you won't." Now that sounded like something a killer would say, you were fucked, so fucked.

"Please, look, I have family, friends, please just let me go." You looked at him a little pleading, fuck your pride and not getting intimidated. This was beyond anything.

You shook the cuff slightly, trying to slip your hand through it in any way. "Look I'll pay or whatever, j-just don't kill me." He seemed in thought about something, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek and then he stood up, your eyes following his long, slim figure.

"No." He curtly replied.

Okay fuck him and fuck reasoning with this asshole.

"I'm gonna cave your face in when I get out of these handcuffs, I swear." You glared. His smile grew again, this fucker was getting some sick satisfaction of seeing you seething in anger.

"Ouuu there's that fire that I was beginning to miss, you were begging so nicely a second ago." He twirled a stand of your hair. He grabbed at the cuffs unlicking it from the bar, getting your hopes up of being free when he clasped the now free shackle to your other hand. Your hands now cuffed in front of your body, he pulled at the chain holding them together.

He stood up, dragging you with him. "Girls like you only learn the hard way, don't they? Lucky for you, I know just how to handle your type." Anything he said sounded so suggestive, you don't know if the fear was activating some hidden side in you, or if his attractiveness eliminated any red flags in the situation. He tugged you along, crossing room for room way too fast for you to keep track of where you were and therefore not making you figure out where he was taking you, until he hauled you into a dimly lit room. A bedroom, okay woah, this was turning into one of your fantasies real fast.

"I'm feeling generous today, it's not every day where a pretty thing just turns up at my doorstep, so I'll even remove these." The restraints from your wrist fell to the floor, your hands massaging your wrists. "I'll let you off the hook" But? There had to be some twist. "You'll spend the night here, after all you wanted to be here." Yeah, to steal something, not to fuck a loaded dude.

You did consider it, he wasn't bad looking. But that fucking attitude was just so aggravating. "And what makes you think that I would just agree to that?" Your arms crossed in silent protest.

"Maybe the fact that you wouldn't land yourself in jail."

"You kind of interrupted my work so It's only fair that I get a little bit of a compensation for being so nice."

Oh, hell to the no, not this guy, nu uh. He looks like someone that would brag about this for centuries to come. You whipped around ready to leave; "I'll just turn myself in."

"Come on, didn't you notice the tension between us, are you that oblivious?"

Of course, you had noticed, from the first second you realized his hands were way bigger and that he was towering over you, had you thinking dirty. Like if he had just bent you over the glass in the other room. Or the hallway wall, or this bed. God there must be something wrong with you. Some adrenaline induced arousal that activated since you were caught.

You didn't notice yourself stopping nor did you notice Yunho moving up behind you until his warm breath hit your ear.

"Right, you did notice. I'll even gift you a little something to take with you, or you can leave with nothing right now."

He brushed the hair from your neck, kissing it slightly. You could just leave now, but his offer was too tempting. You whipped around, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him in for a kiss, before you could second guess your decision making.

He pushed you against a nearby wall, caging you in. He was so fucking big it felt suffocating in an intoxicating way. Like all your senses were filled with Yunho only.

The movements were rushed buttons falling off, his tie almost getting ripped apart. Your shirt and jacket being discarded in a matter of seconds. You called his name in between kisses, desperate to get him to move faster.

Only one of your legs was out of your jeans when he stuffed you with his fingers, you were hoping that your legs kept their strength, and your knees wouldn't buckle. It was getting increasingly difficult, the more fingers he added, the harder he thrusted, the deeper that he hit. You tried your best to hold onto his shoulders. You took notice of the large bulge pressing against his slacks and slipped your hand in. You stroked him making him bite his lip a bit, his brows furrowing in pleasure. Groans were the only things you could hear besides the wet squelch of your pussy. When your knees were going to give out, he pulled his hand from you, reaching over, grabbing a familiar object, clicking it onto you again but lifting your arms making you wrap your cuffed hands around his neck, your hands holding onto him. He lifted one of your legs getting closer to your body while his other hand moved down and pulled his length out of his pants.

A pretty thing from top to bottom, with just the perfect curve. Fittingly big for his stature. Your favorite part was when he started rubbing it against you, getting it wet, a vein that ran along his cock brushed your clit at the perfect angle. It made you cry out just a little louder for him.

"I might just keep you in my treasure room dear, you just make such cute noises."

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, not that you cared at this moment. When he slipped himself inside that's when you almost came on the spot, your insides were clenching so much around his length. Wrapping around him, it was so so warm. And when he started moving it was even better, the drag of your ridged walls pulling him back in when he pulled out.

"Yunho, Yunho, god ah."

His thrusts reached deeper than your fingers every could, than any man before him could. Yunho kept thrusting while alternating between playing with your boobs and circling your clit with his thumb.

"You're gonna kill me, you know that? o-my fucking god." He groaned after each thrust. Your stomach became so warm and tingly, it was only a matter of seconds before you'd cum all over his cock. It was after a particular calculated thrust up into your g-spot that had you seeing stars, tightening your arms around Yunhos neck and letting out a pornographic moan. The squeezing of your pussy had him coming just a moment after, not giving him the chance to pull out, not that he wanted to.

He spilt himself into you, driving aftershocks from your orgasm out of you. His thrust slowing down, to ride out his own, until his hips stopped.

He pulled back, your hole opening and closing a little and making cum dribble out of you.

"Can't have you waste that." He pushed some of it back in with his fingers. You moaned in hypersensitivity. Your legs completely gave out after that and he picked you up, carrying you over to the bed that would have been the more ideal place.

He untangled himself from you, you grumbled at the loss of contact. You just heard the click of the cuffs, your eyes closed in contentment, too tired.

He continued staying at your side, bringing you a glass of water, and pulling the blanket over you, making you fall asleep faster than you'd ever think was possible. Considering you were still in a stranger’s house, said stranger was inside your guts just a moment ago, so couldn't really call him that.

This definitely wasn't part of your masterplan, but you wouldn't change a thing.

When you woke up in the morning, Yunho peacefully sleeping next to you, you quietly dressed yourself and excited the mansion. Not forgetting to take a price, in the form of his ring and a note that read: "If you want your souvenir back, call me."

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #atz smut #ateez x you #yunho smut #atz fanfic

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prythianpages · 8 months

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Cruel, Wicked Thing | Eris x Reader

summary: you are betrothed to Sawyer Vanserra yet that doesn't stop the eldest Vanserra from wanting you.

warnings: I can't really think of anything? this isn't really fluff or angst, just eris longing. slow burn maybe?

a/n: this can be read as a stand alone imagine but it's a part two to this. I intended the second part to be something else but then I ended up writing this scene and it didn't really fit the vibes I was going with so I decided to just post it separately.

As Eris steps out into the courtyard gardens, his gaze is immediately drawn to you. You’re seated upon one of the stone benches that faces the grand water fountain, the one where he first met you. His steps slow, compelled to take in the sight of you. The sun’s light filters through the clouds, caressing your features with a golden glow as you delicately turn the pages of a book. A gentle breeze rustles through the Autumn trees, creating a ballet of falling leaves and causing loose strands of your hair to dance in the air. As the wind carries the sweet scent of rose and honey to him, Eris inhales deeply.

Among the fluttering leaves, a single one lands atop your head, a delicate crown bestowed by nature itself. Yet, you remain unaware. You’re completely lost to the realm of literature in your lap. The same way Eris is lost in you.

He wonders if he should turn and walk the other way. Much like he has done in the weeks that you’ve moved into the Forest house. He doesn’t want to avoid you but the magnetic pull you exert is thrilling yet fear-inducing. So he's resorted to studying you from afar. He knows you enjoy walking around the gardens, reading and hanging around the stables. He knows you well enough to know you don't belong in a cruel court such as this one.

Yet, the Cauldron has unequivocally marked you as someone special to him and he finds himself wary of the potential depth of affection you might set ablaze within his guarded heart. It’s laughable, how someone as sweet and pure as you is so dangerous to him.

You are engaged to his younger brother, Sawyer. And Eris? He’s engaged in the delicate balance of playing the role of the perfect son—perfect heir—all while conspiring against his own father. He cannot afford to harbor any weakness nor does he want to drag you into the depths of his hell.

But as he looks around the gardens, he confirms there’s no one else around. He then decides to indulge himself, even if only for a little bit.

As he walks toward you, he deliberately steps on the fallen leaves, allowing them to crunch under his boot. The intentional sound announces his approach and has you looking up. Your eyes widen in surprise as you sit up straight.

“Lord Eris.”

The corner of his lips quirk up and he greets you with the same formality. “Lady y/n.”

His fingers reach out to delicately pluck an orange leaf from the crown of your head. The touch lingers longer than necessary, and “accidentally,” his hand brushes against the softness of your cheek as he lowers it. The lingering contact leaves you slightly flustered, a soft blush creeping up on your face—a reaction he takes delight in.

“I’m surprised you haven’t run away,” he remarks.

Eris knows the past three weeks have been rough for you. He’s not only seen it as you chased Sawyer, your unfortunate husband to be, like a lost puppy but he’s also felt it. On occasion, he sends one of his hounds, Clover, to cheer you up. Even the vicious little creature has fallen victim to you, revealing a softer side in your presence. One she normally only shows Eris.

Your father, a busy and highly esteemed merchant, departed as soon as he signed your marriage contract, leaving you to navigate the Autumn Court alone. Sawyer barely gives you the time of day. It’s a double edged sword because though Sawyer is content with neglecting you, he is the lesser evil of his three remaining brothers.

Sawyer’s disinterest for you, however, often leaves you vulnerable to his two other brothers, Hunter and Oliver. Hunter, who much like his name, always has a thirst and desire to give chase to anything that isn’t his and Oliver–well, Oliver lusts after anything with two legs. The thought of them touching you–hurting you–sends a fire to course through his veins. It reaches his hand, small flames emerging from his fingertips and the leaf in his hand succumbs to ashes. He brushes them off, feigning nonchalance, grateful that you're unfazed.

With a deft motion, you dog-ear the page you were on before closing your book and gracefully rising to your feet. Upon realizing his attention drifting to the book in your hands, you swiftly hide it behind your back.

“Why would I run away? Maybe, I’m right where I want to be.”

As his gaze lifts to meet yours, a flicker of surprise and curiosity dances in his amber eyes. Bold words. Unlike you. Despite your hands held behind your back, the subtle nervous twitch of your arm muscles is not lost on him.

“But you’re unhappy,” Eris says and he almost expects the emotions churning within you to come to surface. For you to agree. For you to complain. He leans in closer to you, willing to listen.

You do none of that, though. Instead, you force a smile onto your face. One that fails to reach your eyes. "I'm very happy.”

“Well, you’re very convincing.”

“And you’re very nosey.”

Eris lets out an exhale through his nose and you shrink back, worried you have offended him. The small smirk that lifts the corner of his lips soothes your concern. “I kind of have to be, angel. This is my court and I am to rule over it someday. It is my duty to be aware of everything that goes on.”

“Perhaps, I should start with finding out what had you so captivated earlier.” Eris adds, eyeing the book you continue to conceal behind your back.

You take a step back, fingers tightening against your book but it’s useless. In a heartbeat, the book disappears from your grasp and reappears in Eris’s thanks to his magic. He holds it up in a taunting manner and you’re running after him.

“Eris!”

A spark ignites in his amber eyes as he recognizes the title, and a chuckle escapes him at your adorable yet desperate attempt to reach for the book. He holds it higher, taking full advantage of his height.

“You shock me, angel. I didn't pin you to be the type to read–”

“Please give it back.”

Eris pauses for a moment in deep contemplation. You are asking so nicely–begging, more like it. But he finds that he likes the way you’re madly blushing at him too much. He shakes the urge to give into your puppy dog eyes. “I don’t think so…shall I start reading where you left off, hmm?”

Panic flashes in your wide eyes as you desperately lunge forward to retrieve your book. However, Eris's quick reflexes had him turning away, causing you to trip over the pavestone. With Eris's body no longer there to block your path, you found yourself tumbling into the water fountain with a loud splash.

The water is cold and has you gasping, goosebumps rising on your skin. You lift your gaze and though you glare at him, he finds it adorable. Absolutely endearing. He tilts his head back in laughter and the sound softens your gaze.

Eris is still laughing when you hold out your hand to him expectantly. “What?”

Your eyebrows knit together in disbelief. “Aren’t you going to be a gentleman and offer me your hand?”

Unspoken desires stir within him as he gazes at your outstretched hand. In his eyes, there's a subtle ache, a silent wish to offer you more than just his hand. The wave of your hand has him breaking from his thoughts. This time, he takes it. He fails to notice the gleam in your eyes as he does. He doesn’t realize his mistake until it’s already too late–until he’s falling into the fountain and on top of you. Quick reflexes save your book from the water, while one hand is planted at your side to avoid the full weight of his fall.

“Not so funny now, is it?” Your laughter dies in your throat and your voice embarrassingly losing its vigor as you both find yourselves unexpectedly close in the watery aftermath.

Wide amber eyes, bathed in the warm glow of honeyed hues, lock onto yours. His chest is pressed against you and his nose is so close to yours, they’re almost brushing. All you can hear is the soothing sound of running water and his soft breath. You can feel the warmth of it too and the way his chest rises and falls with every breath.

“You cruel, wicked thing,” he murmurs, voice dripping in velvet, capturing the not so subtle shift in your gaze from his eyes to his lips.

He does the same, also well aware of how close he is to you. Gods, you’re dangerously close to him and as your eyes flutter shut, anticipation charges the air. A mere inch closer, and he could savor the allure of your lips—your pretty but devilish lips. The mere notion sets his heart aflutter. The golden string, binding you both together, seems to tug at him insistently, reeling him in.

Closer, the bond in his chest sings. Closer–

A series of distinct and deliberate chimes has both of you abruptly turning your heads towards the grand clock that oversees the gardens. Eris suppresses a sigh. He has to go but doesn’t want to leave. Reluctantly, he pulls away and rises to his feet, stepping out of the fountain. He then offers you his hand, helping you up. When your shoes slip along the fountain’s tiles, he chuckles and helps steady you by bringing you close to his chest.

“Thanks,” escapes you in a breathless whisper, the frenzy of your mind leaving no room for any other words.

Once you’re back on steady feet, he distances himself from you, careful not to betray the protest of his heart. While you wrap your arms around your cold, trembling form, your gaze lowers to the book he safeguarded through the entire ordeal. Eris summons every ounce of strength to resist the urge to rush towards you and warm you with his kiss. He has to leave now.

“I’ll return your book to you,” Eris promises, smirking at the small sigh of relief you let out and mischievously adds: “Once I’m done with it.”

Then, Eris leaves before you can say a single word. Before you can unravel his resolve further. You’re dangerous, he reminds himself. A cruel wicked thing that beckons a wayward soul like his to crave entry into heaven. Not just any heaven, but yours.

a/n: what type of book do we think the lovely reader was reading? lol I do have 2 more parts planned for this little au and maybe more 👀 depending on how the other 2 parts go (they're both inspired by songs and i'm literally just going with the vibes now since I'm really indecisive on how I want to go with this au. I have so many ideas.)

#eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra imagine #eris vanserra #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #eris angel au

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xjulixred45x · 4 months

Text

Zagreus (Hades) x Albino! Mortal!Reader

Imagine that the reader is a mortal who lives (unknowingly) near the gates of the Underworld (perhaps near one of the temples in honor of Hades next to the Cocytus River), and not only that, but she was born with ALBINISM.

I mean, skin very sensitive to sunlight, eyes just as sensitive, hair without color, etc.

Thanks to this, she gained a certain reputation in her hometown, both good and bad, but the general consensus was that her "exotic" appearance would make a good trophy wife.

So the reader resorted to an old Greek custom, covering herself as much as possible with veils and cloth, not only to protect herself from the sun, but to give the illusion that she was married to someone important, someone her suitors were afraid of.

and it works, sort of, but unwanted attention one way or another appears, so she decides to take a break from the people at the temple in honor of Hades, knowing that no one would dare go there.

What she didn't expect was to have company at some point.

Let's say this is for when Persephone returns to the Underworld and Zagreus goes to the surface at first just to tend to his mother garden, but eventually wants to wander, which leads to him stumbling upon the temple to Hades.

which leads to him running into reader.

Even if he dies before talking to her, curiosity is quite powerful, Zagreus knows that his father has very little culture (and understands VERY well why) so seeing a mortal for the first time and on top of that one who adored his father ? unusual.

The next time he surfaces he goes directly to the temple, and there is the reader, taking care of the almost abandoned place a little.

Definitely both at first are a bit wary of each other, mainly reader to Zag because of her bad experiences with men, but once she sees that he is a friendly guy (I say "see" as a way of saying because with all the veils that she wears she doesn't see shit) starts having a conversation with him.

Zagreus thinks that Reader surely uses the veils as a way to cover herself from the cold at first, but since Demeter has softened towards mortals and better times are coming and Reader continues wearing veils, Zag is confused. Isn't she roasting in there?

At the same time, as reader also covers her eyes to protect them, She probably does not know or realize at the beginning that Zagreus is a god, simply because she does not see the need to remove the veil to find out what this friendly person looks like. although she definitely thinks it's strange that be disappears after a couple of hours out of nowhere. rude.

It takes several trips to the surface for both to open up, which causes both to begin to generate a certain playful dynamic taking advantage of the circumstances. It's something...tender.

Zagreus learns more about mortal customs and their history thanks to the reader, how they see the gods, how they differ, in general, it is something quite important for Zagreus, being more empathetic than his relatives, he wants to be aware of how the gods live, as well mortals. After all, without them the gods have no work, right?

Reader definitely didn't buy Zagreus about being the son of Hades at first, and it will take a little time for her to believe it, but I think the most important step for both of them would be to know why Reader is always covered and her condition.

Let's say that one day while being outside (reader in the shade and Zagreus in the sun) Zagreus accidentally pulled a bit of the reader's lower veil while playing and that generated a HORRIBLE burn on her arm, poor boy felt so guilty :(

Although it also helped him to start connecting the dots for him because she was always so covered, and he just started asking about her condition in order to help her.

The reader would tell him some basics of her condition and how it affected her life in many ways. Coming to the topic of suitors. and I imagined something like this:

"So you wear your veils to protect yourself from the sun?"

"not only that...women in my city usually cover themselves when they get married"

"(between berserk and heartbroken mode) are you...married?"

"Oh no! Gods no! It's just a move I made to protect myself from both the sun and the men who won't leave me alone!"

"Are they that bad? Do you think that will stop them for long?"

"The worst... and the more covered the woman is, the more powerful the husband is. What do you think these men think when they see a woman covered from head to toe?"

"that you must be married to the king of Olympus himself"

when the reader finally decides to show Zagreus her face and as you can see, boy is so ANXIOUS, because well, he was already quite in love with this girl just with her personality and her attitude, so being able to put a face to the name was simply exciting . And when she takes it off? he dies (figuratively).

And for her part, the reader is quite surprised to see that INDEED her recent friend not only has a strange divine aura but also fucking BURNING FEET and begins to believe his anecdotes much more 😅

Zagreus getting her Ambrosia 🥺 I have the hc that in normal living humans the ambrosia of Hades has a certain healing effect (as ambrosia had a rejuvenating effect in mythology) and perhaps thanks to this reader can walk in the sun without getting hurt.

Zagreus definitely dislikes reader's suitors as much (or even more) than she does. If she wants him to scare them, he'll be happy to do it :)

(It goes without saying, if the reader ends up in the Underworld suddenly, er, because of the suitors, Zagreus is DEFINITELY going to retaliate by giving them a direct step to Tartarus).

If reader could somehow go to the house of Hades (maybe for Charon) she would be SO HAPPY that finally there is no sun damaging her skin or stupid men harassing her, being able to move freely is so.. MAGICAL! Her joy is contagious to Zagreus, who had already gotten used to seeing her always confined by her clothes and veils, but this is not bad at all.

Overall, I think it's a cute concept😚

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Soon i may or may not post something about Achilles! So, stay tuned.

#drabble #fem reader #supergiant hades #hades supergiant #hades spoilers #hades zagreus x reader #zagreus x reader #hades zagreus #zagreus #albino #hades defo does the thing of “you(the Reader) deserve better”#just a thought #lol #hades 2 #hades ii #hades game

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muntitled · 4 months

Text

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞 | 𝐊.𝐒.

Kim Seungmin x Fem!Reader

♡ Follow Kim Seungmin as he embarks on slaying the demon that plagues you monthly. (Aka he takes care of you on your period)

♡ Cw: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Care, Suggestive Content, Soft Dom Minnie, slightly implied chubby reader, humour, mentions of nausea, Possessiveness

♡ He's successfully wrecked Bang Chan as my top bias

He could tell, from the moment he stepped over the wooden threshold, when your frustrated groans drifted through the air, that he had just walked into something akin to a battle zone on the Northern front. Seungmin clenches his eyes shut, feeling his own exhaustion double at the sound of your incessant moaning and groaning.

His large hand drifts over the contours of his bareface and for a no more than 40 seconds, Seungmin just stands there.

His back hits the framed wall depicting you and Seungmin (in much happier spirits) on your various ‘baecations’ all around the globe.

Seungmin turns to examine these pictures as he kicks his Nike sneakers off and he shakes his head.

You look so carefree in the picture. Your head is thrown back in a luscious guffaw aimed at the sky and Seungmin, in the very same picture is caught, quite embarrassingly so, with his head gazing down at you with a kind of admiration ancient Greeks held for the deities they worshipped.

That same mouth of yours had been painted with a lip combo that Seungmin had spent the entire evening trying to kiss off. He kissed you and kissed you and never grew tired. You both look so full of life. So attractive. So infuriatingly Instagram-y.

“야, Kim Seungmin! I swear to God if you're standing at the door, holding my period pills hostage, I will fucking end you!”

The juxtaposition was almost laughable. Seungmin couldn't help the slightly humorously exhale that left his lips as he gathered what little sensibilities he had left to face you and your particular dragon that he had to conquer when it was that time of the month.

When his sock-clad feet glide into the living room he finds you laid on the floor in foetal position (unsurprising) with your hands clutched around your stomach, while you groan thunderously into the air.

“Why do you always resort to using my government name when you're having cramps,” your ‘supposed boyfriend’ says in a manner that is so infuriatingly nonchalant, it has your eye twitching from your position on the persian rug.

“I'm dying, and that's the first thing you have to say to me?” Instead of responding to what was admittedly an over exaggeration used to thaw away at your boyfriend's unnaturally cold heart, Seungmin instead places the groceries on the counter.

“It's almost as if-” you watch as he works in the kitchen ceremoniously connected to the living area. “You always think you’re dying and then, miraculously, make it through another month. Its almost as if this is… temporary? Dunno though, I'm not an expert.” he resorts to sarcasm while your stomach turns in nausea

“Haters!” You affirm through clenched teeth while cradling your body from side to side, “I'm surrounded by my haters and they're closing in….”

“The only thing that's ‘closing in’ is your bedtime.” Seungmin swipes his fringe to the side as he watches you from behind the counter but it only bounces right back into his eyes, “Did you brush your teeth”

“Did you brush yours,”

“There's only one of us slinking on the floor like Satan,”

“Mean to me-” you whimper through quivering lips, “You're so mean to me!”

“I'm not mean when I'm trying to get you to go brush your teeth,” you hear the sound of the water spout running before soft muted footsteps approach you. Sensing Seungmin’s shadow now casted over your serpentine form which did in fact resemble Satan in the garden of Eden, you keep your eyes shut and your bottom lip jutted out as if thoroughly,and completely angry with him.

“Drink your pills, Bubs-”

“Don't tell me what to-”

“Drink it.”

There were many things you could get away with being in a relationship with one-such Kim Seungmin. He practically radiated boyfriend energy which made walking out in public with a complete nightmare because there is a special detector stationed in every girl, letting them know they were in the radius of a particularly special boy. He knew of your aversion to outsiders perceiving him, “you want me to wear a paper bag?” Seungmin had been completely unimpressed when you brought up the topic at the kbbq restaurant in the sunny recesses of Gyeongsang Province. “You're too hot,” you'd said, “And kind and delightful and it pisses me off,”

he had cracked a smile and showed up to your apartment the very next day quite literally wearing a cardboard paper bag. He had holes for eyes and the rest of him was otherwise normal. “Let's go”

And you had fricken gone, because when Seungmin puts base in his voice, like he’s doing right now while he had a glass of water hanging above your head, there was nothing left to do except comply.

You grumble as you lift yourself up from off the floor and your eyes are hardened balls of cement when you grab the water and the pills.

“You complain about cramps but never actually want to drink the pills I bring,” Seungmin murmurs with his hands on his hips. You watch him in his billowy white shirt and his sweatpants and you can feel your anger beginning to slip away.

Chugging down your water, you place the glass on the coffee table before you begin to grumble, “Instead of medicating me all the time it wouldn't hurt to- I dunno- hold me-” the second those words leave your mouth Seungmin pulls you into his arms with a deep and heavy eye roll as the both of you fall backwards into the couch. “That was my second order of business, Babe.” He nuzzles his nose into tje side of your face and his hands pull yoir thigh pver his mich smaller one

“Unhand me, Demon!”

“Now I know you didn't eat because you never eat when you're like this,” your stomach, despite turning in nausea also manages to descend into a pit of butterflies, “But I'm going to make you a smoothie and you'll drink at least 2 gulps. Maybe even 3.”

You try to wrangle out of his grip but he keeps you there, “And you still haven't brushed your teeth, so you're doing that after the smoothie” Seungmin whispers, nearly causing an anyureseum as a places a delicate kiss to ypur cheek, as his hand comes up the back of your head, patting your hair down in intervals.

“Are you my dad?” You whisper, despite your eyes flitting shut. Your cramps, you're noticing, have already begun to ease up and Seungmin snickers as he watches the peace take over your countenance.

He leaves one more delicate kiss to your forehead before snickering, “don't piss me off” he says, tapping the skin of your thigh, “God, I love when you're like this,” you're unaware of the intensity with which Seungmin is looking down at you. “You like when I'm dying of pain?” You ask craning your neck back to haze into the vaguely serious face taking over your boufriend's features. While you examine the roundness of his cheeks and the contours of his visage, Seungmin's eyes are trained on you too. They're intense, dark holes of perpetual lust as his hand begins to rub up and down your thigh. “I like when you let me take care of you?” He whispers before lightly pushing his lips against yours. It begins as a whisper of a kiss, almost hy as the tips of your lips brush together. Seungmin sticks his tongue out, lapping shyly at your bottom lip.

You groan underneath him, only prompting him to shift until he's hovering over you, kissing you deeply.

“I need-” you try to move away but his lips chase yours, “I need to eat, remember-”

“Didn't say anything about me eating you-”

The lightening that slices down your spine is so vicious and so sudden and by the time you're pushing Seungmin off of you, you realize your cramps have completely dissipated.

“Make me a smoothie, and then we'll talk.”

#kim seungmin #kim seungmin x reader #seungmin #seungmin fluff #kim seungmim #seunghan x reader #seungmin smut #skz #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #seungmin fanfic #stray kids x black!reader #seungmin x black reader

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fatal-thoughts · 5 days

Text

A Lovely Exchange

Telemachus x Servant! Reader

Synopsis: Telemachus already fights off his mother’s suitors, but what if he manages to become one? To… one of the palace’s servants?

warnings: slow burn, flustered Telemachus, puppy love, assault, threats

A/N: This is fluffier than what I usually write, but I couldn't help it. I love him sm wtf

Part 1 of ???

You went about your routines as usual—watering the garden, cleaning the halls, fixing any imperfections in the palace, and even helping other servants when needed.

It wasn’t unusual to see you wandering around the palace; after all, you were the queen’s favorite assistant.

No one really knew why or how you and the queen were so close, not even you. But you knew there were both benefits and drawbacks to it.

Including being a target of the 108 suitors now living under the same roof as you.

As much as you wanted to continue your duties as usual, they never failed to hinder your responsibilities.

You were heading toward the palace dining room. Though it was the last place you wanted to go, you had to pass through it to reach the kitchen to prepare something for the queen—who also refused to set foot in there.

So far, so good, until you stepped into the hallway. The once loud and distracted suitors were now eyeing you.

You swallowed nervously, the lump in your throat growing, but continued forward, treading slowly so as not to attract more attention than you already had.

You made it to the end of the hall, believing you were safe, until you felt someone grab your wrist and pull so hard you almost lost your balance. You looked up and saw one of the queen’s most persistent suitors: Antinous.

The man had a proud smirk on his face as he looked down at you, still holding onto your wrist. He’d made multiple attempts to converse with you, all of which you declined, so you weren’t entirely surprised that he’d resorted to these measures.

"Ah, well, if it isn’t the lovely slave herself.”

That pissed you off.

You knew you couldn’t do anything about it, but if you could, you’d have slapped him by now. Instead, you jerked your arm away from him.

But that didn’t stop him. He grabbed you again, this time by the arm, with a much tighter and more painful grip, making you gasp in pain.

“Whoa now, where do you think you’re going? You don’t think you can just run off that easily, do you?” he taunted, leaning closer to your neck, his voice low.

“We want the queen, and since she’s unavailable, I guess we’ll have to settle for you.”

You glanced behind you, noticing all the men in the hall staring at you with intense gazes filled with hunger, desire, and thirst.

Frightened, you hurriedly tried to break free from Antinous’s grip. He chuckled softly, holding you tighter and pulling you closer. You struggled with all your strength until, finally, he let go. But it wasn’t because of your effort.

His gaze had shifted—he was no longer looking at you, but at something, or someone, else.

Backing away from him, you looked behind him and saw none other than the queen’s son, Telemachus.

He was gripping his sword, pointing it at Antinous.

“Leave her alone.”

You were surprised, to say the least. You and Telemachus had never really spoken. He usually avoided you whenever he ran into you.

You never understood why. Every time you saw him, he’d dash away like a startled deer.

But now, here he was, standing in front of you, holding a sword to one of the suitor’s neck.

Antinous raised his hands sarcastically, a smug grin on his face as he glanced between Telemachus and you.

“Alright, I’ll leave her be, little wolf.”

He walked past you, but as he did, he whispered, “Don’t think I’m done with you yet, slave.”

You recoiled instantly as he let out a shameless laugh.

You and Telemachus watched him walk away, and then you quickly exited the dining hall.

Catching your breath, you adjusted your hair and robes, trying to calm yourself. No suitor had ever approached you with such aggression before, and now Antinous had gone to these lengths? It was terrifying.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you realized Telemachus was still standing in front of you, staring at you like a deer caught by a hunter.

You raised a brow, confused. Did he see something?

“My prince, are you… alright?” you asked, still somewhat shaken. After all, he did just save you. Maybe he was in shock?

“Shit, shit, shit, shit—” was what was running through Telemachus’s mind as he stood there.

He hadn’t really thought he’d get this far. All he saw was you in danger, and his instincts had taken over.

But now that he had actually saved you, talking to you afterward wasn’t part of the plan—if he even had a plan.

He was practically begging the gods that you wouldn’t notice the inconvenient pink hue on his cheeks because that would only make things worse.

He had gone to such lengths to avoid you, to ignore you, to ward you off—foolish attempts, all of them—and now here you were, standing right in front of him.

He waited for you to tell him that you knew. Knew he admired you, probably too much.

His lips quivered slightly as he stared at you, unable to stop himself. Come to think of it, he’d never noticed how beautiful you were up close. The shape of your nose, how perfectly it fit your face. The look in your eyes, with the soft tint of color. And your lips, how pretty they looked, even when they smiled just a little.

“Fuck, I’m staring,” he muttered under his breath, snapping out of his trance.

Which you definitely heard.

You tilted your head slightly. Was he okay? Had Antinous done something to him?

No, he was just a nervous wreck because his childhood crush was standing right in front of him, and he was so not prepared.

If Athena was watching him right now, this was definitely not a battle she had prepared him for.

With a silent, desperate cry, he cleared his throat, trying to make the situation less embarrassing than it already was.

“I-I’m fine. How are you?”

…

Seriously? THAT’S the best you could do?

He stared at the ground, trying to mask his shame. Maybe if he couldn’t see you, you couldn’t see him either, right? Zeus might as well strike him down with lightning.

He was about to punch himself when he heard something.

You were… laughing?

He looked up to see you covering your mouth, short giggles escaping your lips.

Was it bad that he found them so pretty?

Eventually, you calmed down.

“Thank you, my prince, for saving me back there. Truthfully, I wouldn’t know what to do if you hadn’t come to my aid. So, thank you.”

You bowed your head, expressing your gratitude.

“How can I repay you, my princ—”

“N-No! It’s fine, please! I don’t need anything. You’re safe, that’s all that matters. I wouldn’t want anything bad happening to you, so just…”

And now he was rambling.

Nice going, Telemachus. Might as well confess to her right here and now, right? Just go for it!

Before he could continue his spiral, both of you noticed a familiar silhouette approaching. As she got closer, you immediately recognized her.

And she did not seem pleased.

“Queen Penelope! Forgive me, I was delayed on my way to the kitchen. I’ll quickly fetch your meal as you requested—”

“No, it’s alright, Y/n. You are not the one I am concerned with.”

Her gaze shifted sharply to Telemachus, her eyes almost piercing through him.

The boy’s soul nearly escaped his body when he saw the way his mother looked at him.

“Son, come with me.” Penelope turned and walked away without another word.

Telemachus glanced back at you, taking in your beautiful presence one last time.

“I…”

“Quickly, Telemachus.”

If there was one thing he didn’t want to do, it was anger his mother. He feared her more than any god.

“I’lltalktoyoulaterbye!” he blurted out as he hurried to catch up with her.

That… was something. For a first impression, it wasn’t that bad, right?

Right?

Ah, shit.

He followed Penelope as they walked through the halls, still unsure of where they were headed, but he kept his pace with her.

Eventually, they reached the palace garden. A place where Penelope liked to unwind, where Telemachus often rested, and where you, conveniently, loved to work.

The queen sat beside the marble fountain, and Telemachus followed suit. A comfortable silence fell between them as they enjoyed the peaceful moment. It had been some time since they’d spent time together, and both of them treasured even the smallest moments.

“You like her, don’t you, son?”

…

Wait… WHAT?

So, what do you think?

#epic the musical x reader #epic the musical #epic the wisdom saga #telemachus x reader #antinous x reader #epic telemachus #epic penelope #epic antinous #fatal-thoughts

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gladiatorcunt · 5 months

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Modern coryo whos trying to sorta maybe manipulate his gf by being obsessed and then not reading her texts for 3 days but the gf is literally the same so it’ll be like

r: “heyyy” and then a day later he replies “heyaaa” and then it goes on like that for a week until he cracks and sends her 15 messages in the span of 4 minutes

cw: feminization/fem label “gf” but the reader is still only intended to be afab, the ask has she/her pronouns but i don’t use them in the writing, manipulation and toxic behavior, typical coryo/modern!coryo warnings, love bombing, not canon to the main au, black cat reader ish, reader has a shower in their dorm bc i say so 🤫, male masturbation

Now Coryo wouldn’t do this during your relationship, despite his best attempts to play it cool, you make him panic and he’s immediately resorting to rich boy love bombing (trips, those ridiculously expensive boxed roses, 999999999 rounds of oral on his yacht, a summer house, etc.) followed by baby trapping. He’s not stupid enough to try something like that deeper into your relationship, for him it’s about making sure the foundation is as solid as possible and not shaking it up.

This would really only happen before you even start dating, after he’s bumped into you in the dorms enough times to wear you down into giving him your number. He’s still in his “i have to the most mysterious person alive” mindset and he hasn’t quite shed the fuckboy persona yet. He doesn’t seek anybody out or anything, it was love at first sight with you unfortunately, he’ll just imply that that you’re another contact in a long list. (You’re the only one in his favorites 💀)

You’re smart enough to be wary, too involved in academics and proving yourself to go sniffing around Coriolanus Snow. You don’t really talk to a lot of people, and you’re not interested in a swarm of meaningless interactions. You’re just grateful that he stopped calling you so much, learning that you very much prefer texting. He’s the king of the “hey u up?” text, and you have the flattest look on your face as you reply “Yes.” and turn your phone face down. Exchanges like happen over and over.

Does your heart flutter when he insists on walking you to class and pecking your cheek at the door? Yes but you’ll roll your eyes and make a big deal out of wiping it off. Are you intrigued by how much he hauls ass to get you your coffee order whenever he senses that you need it (because he can, he’s like spiderman but lame)? Well, yes, but he must be playing some kind of game with you. Has a cliche bet with his fraternity brothers over your assumed virginity maybe. The more you’re determined to not fall for it, the more you find yourself slipping as the days go by.

Just when you turn your head when he pecks your cheek outside the lecture hall, expecting the gesture more than dreading it, he gives you a blank stare and turns on his heel. You take a second to blink and then shrug, it’s no skin off you back if Coriolanus decides to be normal for once. You definitely do not have a bit of a scowl throughout the entire session. (he nearly lost it when you didn’t react at the lack of a kiss, he kicked the wall and almost broke his foot)

He’s back to the “heyy” texts at random hours, responding to your “Hey.” that came a day later two days after that. He’s screaming into his pillow and pacing his grandma’am’s gardens, glaring at the staff pruning the shrubs. Coryo would rather die than admit defeat though, so he hardens his resolve. You’ll break eventually. You on the other hand are living normally, slurping ramen and working on essays. You’ve learned not get your hopes up over a pipe dream, the idea that someone like him would genuinely care about you being so laughable that you get over it rather quickly. You may be from different economic classes, but a man’s attention is never a necessity. That an he’s far from the only trust fund kid in the world.

A week later, your phone goes off in the middle of the night. You step out of the shower and dry yourself off, walking over to your bed and picking it up. To your surprise, the notification from Coriolanus isn’t another dry message, it’s several videos. They all look dark and fuzzy, ranging from 30 seconds to 10 minutes. In some of the thumbnails you can see flashes of bare skin. You click on the first one and are immediately faces with Coriolanus Snow’s sweaty abs.

You’re frozen as he eventually splatters jizz all over them, the camera work is shaky and the flash exposes too much for your liking. You can see his abdominal muscles twitch in the aftermath of his orgasm. He drags his fingers through his own cum and smears it over the camera, giving you a pov of what it’d be like to have your face covered in it.

Your phone chimes again.

Stalker: turn the sound on for the rest ;) see u at the car wash next friday, babe ❤️

You block him (after you save the videos and check the charge on your vibrator).

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aettuddae · 4 months

Text

business matter — chapter 56.

↳ synopsis: two of the most important kpop companies covet a partnership with a huge global brand, only to be surprised when the deal is extended to both labels. fearing potential sabotage and cynical strategies to secure exclusivity for just one of them, both CEOs resort to desperate measures. in a bid to maintain trust and prevent betrayal before the signing, they come up with a pact: forcing a fake relationship between the leaders of their star girlgroups. if one side attempted to fail the other, they threaten to expose it all to the conservative south korea.

masterlist | prev | next

[written chapter]

karina was in her bed quietly watching television during the afternoon when a knock on her door distracted her. she got out of bed reluctantly, knowing who was calling, and opened with a bored expression for her to not to be surprised by the person who was looking at her bitterly from the hallway.

“sorry, but for the sake of your career you can't kick me out of your house.” she crossed her arms.

“since you seem to be more affected by living with me, i would never do something like that.” serim shrugged her shoulders feigning innocence. “when did you decorate this room?” her expression changed to one of confusion and she leaned down, holding onto the edges of the door to get her head inside and begin to inspect it with her eyes.

“this place was depressing." she explained obviously. “i started buying things to decorate it on the days when i had to stay here while you worked.” she added.

“that's a whole new couch.” she pointed at the furniture, horrified to realize that she didn't know what that girl was doing behind her back.

“yes, and it's very comfortable.” she answered without further ado. “you didn't tell me what you want." asked, annoyed.

"come." she ordered, letting out a tired sigh.

“i thought you were mad at me because i hate your plants.” spoke arrogantly as she was dragged by the hand into the kitchen.

"yes, that's right." serim stopped in front of the bar, causing karina to also stop next to her.

“so why are we looking at a plant?” the dancer questioned emotionlessly, eyeing a small pot resting on the marble.

"it's yours." the woman reported seriously.

"i do not want it." she took a few steps trying to return to her room, but serim held her hand firmly, pulling her back to her side.

“you know, karina?” she continued, both with their eyes still glued to the plant in front of them.

"no." interrupted.

“i had never imagined myself taking care of plants.” she turned her head towards the girl, watching her as she continued with her words.

“i guess it's not a dream that many people have.” karina shrugged, returning her eye contact defiantly.

“do you want to know who introduced me to gardening?”

“professor sprout?”

“sejeong." she quickly corrected.

“oh great, more women you're probably dating.” she tried to leave again, but only got serim to hold her hand tighter.

“sejeong is a good friend.” clarified, rolling her eyes. “and also someone who takes care of me a lot and wants the best for me, even though we argue a lot.” she examined her up and down accusatorily. “do you know what azza time is?”

“namu, i already told you i was in azza time once.” yu returned frustrated. “serim.” she arranged her quickly.

"really?" she stayed silent thinking.

“i don't have memory loss like you, namu.”

“you called me namu again.” the named one remarked.

“serim!” karina repeated to herself. "i am going to my room." she turned on her heel but was quickly returned to her previous position.

“stay still, i'm trying to teach you a lesson.” she turned her attention from her to the object of the conversation. “i met sejeong long before azza time and we became friends.” she picked up the thread again. “i was quite reckless and idiotic, and she had been in the industry for more years.”

“you're still an idiot.” she cut off her speech.

“but at least i'm not so reckless anymore.” serim smiled sideways. “sese wanted me to learn responsibility, patience…” she sighed. “to be a good leader, take care of others, and to care about something other than myself.” her tone carried a hint of nostalgia. “i'm not saying you're a bad leader, i don't know how you lead your group, nor do i care.” she gave a dry laugh. “but i learned a lot taking care of that first plant that sejeong gave me, and that was what made me fall in love with gardening.”

she raised her head and searched the apartment, lifting her hand she pointed to a corner near the balcony.

“that's the plant she gave me.” karina followed with her eyes the place her finger indicated. “it's a philodendron, i almost killed it three times.” she laughed embarrassedly.

“let's see if i understood," she blurted out after hearing the oldest. “this plant,” she indicated with her finger to the one that was resting on the counter. "it's mine?"

"yes, as i said before, it is." she nodded. “i was going to be angry at you, in fact, i am.” she rubbed her face with her hands, finally releasing her grip on karina. “but maybe you just don't understand why i like this so much, and i think if you don't try it on your own you'll never understand it.” she reasoned. “and who knows if it won't help you learn and discover new things about yourself.”

karina looked at the gift that rested there, contemplating what she should do, and then looked back at the philodendron in the distance. "what's it called?"

“the one that sejeong gave me?” the younger nodded with her head indicating that she was referring to that. “it doesn't have a name, not all my plants have one.” she wandered around the kitchen while she waited for the girl to do something. “do you want to choose it?” she proposed after a moment.

“do you trust me to name your most precious plant?” she inquired, surprised.

“the philodendron is important to me, but my most precious plant was victoria, whom you already killed, so i don't think you will do worse harm.” she bowed her head dejectedly.

"sorry about that." her countenance changed to a kinder one as she remembered that event. “boo.” she thought out loud, laughing tenderly.

“like seungkwan?” she frowned uncomprehendingly.

"no, idiot." she denied. “like boo-chan from crayon shinchan.” she informed her. “you like plants and i like silly cartoons.”

“and then you make fun of me.” serim murmured in disbelief. “okay, we'll call it boo.” she walked to stand next to her again. “and that one?” she pointed to what she had just gifted her.

"what is it?"

“a haworthia.” karina looked at her with complete misunderstanding on her face. “a succulent.” she said again.

“that doesn't work.” she stayed silent making up names. “tell me a character you like in a musical.”

"me?" jang pointed to herself.

“no, the philodendron.” she replied wryly.

"alright." she gently hit the dancer on her shoulder. "dr. frank-n-furter.”

"who is that?" she expressed bewildered.

“rocky horror show?” no reaction. “remind me that i have to sit you down and teach you about musicals.”

“i would never spend more than half an hour with you voluntarily.” she rejected her. "so," she returned to the plant. “franky.” she announced.

“franky.” the vocalist repeated. “so, this is you accepting it?”

“my parents raised me well and taught me not to refuse a gift.” she took the mentioned object in her hands.

“don't put it so exposed to the sun and let the soil dry out between waterings.” she indicated. “if you start seeing brown colors just call me.” the girl finished, beginning to walk towards the hallway.

“i said i would accept it, not that i would actually take care of it.” karina contradicted the oldest, but no one answered. “namu?” she called her.

“you called me namu again!” serim stressed from her room.

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

TAKE CARE OF YOU [8A]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 12,502

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: part one of two! hope you enjoy, if you do let me know your fav part 😘]

Chapter Specific Warning: mentions of attempted sexual assault (not reader), mild violence, mentions of past significant violence, gambling

08: I KNOW HOW TO HANDLE TROUBLE

"the right person for you will be protective of your heart like it's second nature to them." -bliss

The Wynn resort in Las Vegas was a curved bronze hotel right on the strip. The hot Nevada sun seemed to make the building glow, and it only got prettier once you stepped inside. The entire space had glassy, marble floors decorated with splashes of color. Gardens sat inside with trees wrapped in lights and figures of flowers stood out. The atrium itself had spheres of flowers hanging from the trees and you found yourself in awe of the space. Joel had been right. You really liked this place.

“Sugar.” You turned at Joel’s voice, tearing your eyes away from the view, and when you spotted Joel he stood a few feet away with his phone lifted and aimed in your direction. An amused grin flickered across your features as he hummed at his phone. “Hm, yeah. That’s a keeper.”

“You took a picture of me?” You chuckled.

Joel closed the space so he was beside you. “How could I not? You’re gorgeous.” You felt your cheeks heat at his words. Joel stuck his phone into his pocket before offering you his arm. When you looped yours through his, a familiar stance for the two of you, he began to lead you away. “They’re taking our bags upstairs.” He had already reassured you on the way here that though the two of you were sharing a suite it was one with two separate rooms for sleep arrangements. Just as you told Nima, you found yourself both relieved and disappointed.

Feelings were confusing.

“Hungry?”

“I could eat.” You nodded.

“Good. I know a place.”

Said place ending up being a cafe in the casino resort that served a late brunch. When Joel spoke to the host there was no need to ask for a wait time or place his name down. They gave him the choice of indoor or outdoor then walked you in immediately after he chose the outdoor option. The table they offered the two of you was a cute two person seating arrangement on the covered patio under a fan and in view of the elaborate pool. More gardens surrounded the pool itself in the forms of immense and impressive shrubbery and garden paths. The seating around the pool consisted of red and white chairs separated by curtain cabanas that you couldn’t even begin to imagine the price of.

“Do you come to Vegas often?” You asked after a waitress came by and took your orders.

“No. Just for this conference.” Joel shrugged. “It’s an annual thing.” You asked what the conference was about. In all honesty, you didn’t care too much about the specific lectures or meetings he had coming up, but you’d never pass on the opportunity to listen to him talk. “Mostly meetings between different companies. A way to network and bump elbows. A few lectures from some big names on the trendin’ topics in the contractin’ world.”

You beamed at him with a nod. “Very exciting.” Joel chuckled. “How busy is it gonna keep you?”

“Well tomorrow I’ll be busy for most of the mornin’ and afternoon, but I’m free in the evenin’. Then Sunday I have one last meetin’ in the mornin’ and I figure we can do somethin’ in the afternoon before headin’ back home on the jet.”

You leaned forward on the table, head resting on your fists, “And today?”

Joel’s lips curled into a smile that brightened all of his features. It was your favorite look on him. Forget the flannel or the expensive suits, it was that damned smile that put butterflies in your belly. You weren’t sure how a devastatingly handsome older man could also look so boyish and adorable while wearing that charming smile, but by God you were obsessed.

“Today?” Joel reached across the table and brushed his rough fingers against the side of your arm. In response, you let your arm fall from where it held up your head and tangled your fingers with his. Joel squeezed your hand. “Today I’m all yours, sugar.”

You liked the sound of that.

The two of you just enjoyed your uninterrupted time together. When your meal was over, Joel rose and helped you up as well. He didn’t hesitate to pull you close, looping your arm through his, and leading you back toward the lobby. “So,” You leaned into him, “Do we have plans for today?”

“We do.” Joel nodded. “Startin’ with an afternoon poolside.”

Your eyebrows raised in excitement. “Pool?” He hummed in confirmation. You smirked, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get me in one of those new swim suits you bought me, daddy.” Standing this close to him, you could see the slight flush of red creep up from the collar of his shirt as he cleared his throat. Joel shot you a dry look. “What’s wrong? Are you getting a little hot under the collar?”

Joel cleared his throat, “You’re trouble, sugar.” He leaned in and suddenly pressed his lips to the side of your head. It was such a chaste and quick moment, yet it stopped your heart in your chest. He left his lips close enough to murmur, “Luckily, I know how to handle trouble.”

“I, uh, I…”

“What’s wrong?” Joel pulled back enough so you could see his smug grin, “Are you gettin’ a bit hot?”

You swallowed, involuntarily, and Joel took that as his victory. He chuckled and dragged you toward the elevators. Your suite was near the top floor of the resort, and when Joel pushed the door open for you the first thing that greeted you was the expansive window that made up the entirety of the wall. Your jaw popped open in shock and your feet carried you closer to the window. The room itself was gorgeous with decor of white and gold, you had never stayed in a hotel room that had an actual living room before, but you could only focus on the view of the Nevada mountains out in the distance. When you reached the glass, you peered down the dizzying drop to where you had a view of the pool and the golf course.

“So pretty…” You mumbled in awe. You spun in place to meet Joel’s gaze, “Isn’t this incredible?”

“Yeah,” Joel nodded. His arms were crossed and you could feel his eyes trace you from head to toe and back up. “Some view.” He kept his gaze on you for a beat while walking toward one of the side doors. Joel opened it and peered in then you heard him curse. “Fuck.”

Curiously, you walked around the couch toward him, “What’s wrong? Did they lose our bags?” You stepped beside him to see what it was that had raptured his attention the way it did, and your eyes landed on the singular Queen sized bed in the center of the bedroom. “Oh.”

“Son of a⏤ I am so sorry.” Joel said quickly before you could push out another word. “I’m gonna fix this.” He went further into the room and grasped the phone at the bedside to immediately bring it up to his ear. A beat passed and he was obviously connected to the front desk. “Hello?”

Your eyes drifted back to the bed and you felt your cheeks warm at the thought of sharing the same bed with Joel Miller. Speaking of the man, he was still arguing over the line and from the sounds of it the argument was not going his way. He seemed desperate to fix this problem and you worried that meant he was desperate to avoid sleeping in the same bed as you.

“No, no, I⏤ I understand that. But I⏤” Joel paused, his jaw locked, and then he pinched the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed irritably. “I said I understand that. No, I⏤ Yeah. Thanks anyways.” He hung up the phone and turned back to face you entirely. You shot him a sheepish smile. Joel’s irritation melted into worry and he held his hands up. “I swear, this was not my intention, darlin’. I booked a room with two beds.” Your eyes widened in understanding. Joel was worried you thought he was trying to take advantage. It was a laughable thought that had never even occurred to you⏤ not Joel. Some would call you naive to have such faith in a sugar daddy you hadn’t known for all that long, but it couldn’t be helped. Somehow, you just knew. “The Wynn doesn’t have any other two bed suites available but we can try a different resort or⏤”

“Joel.” You interrupted his nervous rambling and reached out to set your hand on his forearm. “It’s okay. Accidents happen.” Joel’s shoulders seemed to relax. “And as for the, uh, bed situation… I don’t mind.” The words tumbled from your lips slowly, awkwardly even, and Joel just stared. Quickly, you tried to scramble and clarify. “I just mean, it doesn’t bother me to share. We’re both, you know, adults. We can⏤ We can sleep beside one another without issue.” Joel just continued to stare and you were beginning to regret bringing it up at all. You felt silly. In a poor attempt to break the tension, you joked, “I promise I don’t kick in my sleep. I think.”

Joel set his hand on top of yours and squeezed reassuringly. “Of course we can. But, I don’t want you to feel… pressured to just accept this situation.” He spoke firmly leaving no room for argument in his voice. “If even the smallest part of you feels uncomfortable in any way please tell me. We could go to a different resort or, I mean, if you really wanna stick with this place I could get us separate rooms.”

“Really, Joel.” You replied with just as much finality in your voice as he placed in his. “I’m okay with this. It’s not a big deal.” You motioned toward the bed in question. “It’s a big bed.”

Joel let out a small sigh and shook his head. “I’m a… big guy.”

Your eyes couldn’t help but trace Joel’s broad shoulders and tall frame. “As long as you’re comfortable with it too.” Joel held your gaze then gave a nod. A small smile filling his features. “Now, can we get ready for the pool?”

“Yeah. Course.” Joel chuckled and lifted your hand to press his lips against your knuckles.

You had only just gotten used to holding his hand without feeling flustered, and now Joel was pulling out the big guns with these chaste kisses. The smug son of a bitch knew it too based on the smile he wore. Joel handed you your bag and you carried it into the bathroom to change. In your lifetime, you had gotten ready for a pool day God knows how many times. This was one of the first times you felt so nervous though. You loved your body and felt comfortable in your skin, but at the end of the day you were still a human with anxiety. You still couldn’t help that you wanted Joel to look at you and like what he saw.

At the very least you knew he’d like the swim suit itself since he was the one who had been there to buy it for you. Quickly, eager to get to the pool with Joel, you traded your travel clothes for the swim suit and pulled on the matching, thin robe-like cover that he bought with it⏤ leaving it open rather than tying it closed in the front. Then you spent another few minutes checking your appearance in the mirror and adjusting little things like your hair or where the swim suit sat. Finally, when you knew there was nothing left to check, or obsess over, you stepped out of the bathroom.

Joel wasn’t in the bedroom anymore. You set your bag aside and wandered out into the living room following the sound of his voice. He must have gotten changed out in the bedroom while you were in the bathroom. Joel had changed into swim shorts and a white t-shirt. The shorts were dark navy at the top half and a pale yellow on the lower half. You found you couldn’t stop staring because with the way he lounged on the couch, legs spread wide while talking on the phone, you could see his thick thighs. The sight of a man’s thighs should not make you feel so feral, and yet…

“No, the contract needs to be done by then. We can…” Joel’s voice trailed to a stop and your eyes snapped up from his thighs to see he was gawking at you. You bit down on your lower lip to try and mute the wide grin that threatened to fill your features. You raised a questioning eyebrow at him. Joel nodded. “You’re a goddamn vision, sugar.” There was no chance at hiding your grin now at his compliment. Joel jumped suddenly in surprise, eyes widening, as his attention went back to the phone he forgot he had been holding. “No, no. Not you, idiot.” You laughed and Joel’s cheeks burned. “Oh, bite me, Tommy.”

Joel hung up the phone and pointed it in your direction while standing up. “That’s your fault.”

“My fault?” You chuckled. “How’s that?”

“How’s that?” He scoffed, but his smile didn’t falter. Joel closed the space so he could reach out and lightly pinch your chin. “Walkin’ in here lookin’ like a work of art.” He shook his head. “Tommy ain’t ever gonna let me live that down.”

Joel’s eyes drifted down your frame again and you felt the back of your neck grow warm. You cleared your throat and his eyes snapped back to you. You smirked. “What’re you staring at, Joel?”

His hand fell away from your cheek to brush his fingers against the sunflower charm hanging from your neck. Joel hummed, “Just this pretty, little necklace, sugar.” You shook your head, amused. Joel stepped away to grab a simple back book bag that he slung over one shoulder. “Now, come on. Pool time.”

Rather than walk you down to the Wynn Resort’s pool, Joel led you to the neighboring resort’s pool. The Encore was identical to the Wynn from the outside and sat right beside it as its sister resort. As you traveled, Joel kept his fingers intertwined with yours. Every time he flexed his grip, you glanced down at where the two of you were connected. It was beginning to feel like your hand was shaped just to fit in his.

“So how come we don’t just stay at the Wynn?” You asked.

“The Encore is newer, and I think you’ll like the pool better here.” Joel replied. You had no room to question his judgment. So far, he was spot on because the interior of the Wynn was much prettier than the interior of the Encore in your opinion. “Plus, this is an adults only pool so we won’t have to worry about any yellin’ or splashin’.”

The moment the two of you stepped outside, you were greeted by a more modern looking pool with chairs and decor in shades of white and a bold red. Palm trees decorated the area and the floor was painted with the design of curling sun rays surrounding the pool. There was even a second story of chairs and lounges. Honestly, Joel either knew you better than you thought he did or the man was a good guess because this was much nicer than the Wynn’s pool. Joel squeezed your hand and you turned to see him watching you. He raised his eyebrows in question and you laughed again.

“Alright, alright. It’s a nice pool but don’t look so smug about it.” You replied. You glanced over the space, “Do you see any open chairs we can grab?”

“Yeah, I do.” Joel nodded, “Come on.”

Unsurprisingly, the pool was packed with people and Joel pulled you closer to his side so he could set his hand on your back while leading you through the throngs of people. You tried to spot the chairs he spoke of, but after a beat you realized he was leading you to one of the fancy looking cabanas. It was an open room built on the lower floor of the two story piece right by the poolside. A red curtain was hanging and draped open and inside was a couch, flat screen television, and a cabinet with a bottle of champagne sitting in an ice bucket on top. There were even two lounge chairs that could be dragged out into the space directly in front of the cabana where the sun was shining. Your eyes widened, “No way.”

Joel let go of your hand to step into the cabana and set his bag down on the couch. You slowly drifted in behind him and realized the little cabana was even filled with cool air from a large fan overhead. Joel pulled the champagne from the ice and you watched as he cracked it open with ease.

“How much was this, Joel?” You asked.

“Hey,” Joel chided as he turned with two flutes of cold champagne. He handed you one with a shake of his head, “What was the rule we talked about on the way here, sugar?”

During the plane ride to Vegas, Joel told you he didn’t want you asking how much anything cost during the trip. You chuckled and replied teasingly, “Sorry, daddy.” Joel lightly tapped the edge of his flute against yours and you followed his lead in taking a sip. “Mmm. That’s amazing.”

“Only the best for my sugar baby.” Joel replied, making you laugh.

You took another long swig from the flute then motioned to his bag, “Did you grab my sunscreen?” Joel set his flute down to dig through his bag then pulled out the sunscreen you had brought. You had asked him to toss it in with his stuff to keep from having to bring a bag of your own. “Thanks!”

Joel dropped down to sit on the couch. He rested an arm on the back of it with a content smile while staring at you. Biting back any nervous energy that bubbled in your chest, you shrugged out of your thin robe and began to put on the sunscreen. Knowing his gaze was on you, you rubbed it in methodically and tried not to let it be obvious that the butterflies in your belly were threatening to overwhelm you. When you got every spot you could reach with ease, you turned and held the bottle out to Joel, “Can you get my back?”

His eyes widened as if he hadn’t expected you to ask. Joel sat up and threw back the last of his champagne before taking the bottle. He stood up and you turned around. Luckily, not having to face Joel made the action much easier. Joel stood close enough that you could feel his warm breath on your neck and despite the hot weather you felt goosebumps rise on your skin. Joel’s hand settled on your lower back first and he was careful with the application. He rubbed it in your skin, but he did so in a way that made you feel like you were made of glass. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to complain because the more careful he was the slower he worked, and the slower he worked the longer you had his rough hands against your skin.

“There.” Joel hummed. His voice sounded more hoarse than it did when he started. “All protected, sugar.”

You glanced over your shoulder to meet his gaze, “Thanks, daddy.” You meant to say the words playfully, but instead they fell out in a soft near whisper. There was a beat of silence between the two of you and you forced yourself to shake out of the trance Joel had you in. “Um. Can you help me drag the lounge chairs out into the sun?”

Joel cleared his throat and nodded, “I can do you one better.”

He grabbed the back of his shirt’s collar to pull out of his shirt and your eyes involuntarily raked down his body. Joel was built strong. From his broad shoulders to the bit of belly he had, it all screamed strength and sturdiness. He tossed his shirt aside then grasped your hand to lead you out, but you dug your heels in to stop him. Joel shot you a curious look.

“You didn’t put on any sunscreen.” You said.

Joel furrowed his brow, “I don’t need sunscreen.”

“You don’t need sunscreen?”

“I’m a big, strong man.” Joel replied teasingly before trying to pull you out of the cabana again.

You tugged him back. “Hey, big strong man, in a fight against the sun you’re gonna lose.” Joel groaned and rolled his eyes in good nature but he allowed you to pull him all the way back in. You made him hold your flute so you could grab the bottle of sunscreen. Quickly, before you lost your nerve, you squirted a glob of sunscreen in your hand and began to rub it into Joel’s skin. He squirmed under your touch and you shot him a mocking glare, “Hey, stay still.”

“Bossy.” Joel snorted.

“Do you like it better when I’m bossy or bratty?” You asked with a cheeky grin. Joel’s lips pulled up into a smile, but he didn’t offer an answer. You used the last bit of sunscreen on your hands to rub onto his features and you finished with your hands on the side of his face. You squished his cheeks together. “There. All protected.”

Joel suddenly turned his face and playfully nipped at your hand with his teeth. You gasped in surprise and he laughed. “Now that we’re safe from the sun, let’s go.” He tangled his fingers with yours and offered you back the flute of champagne you hadn’t finished yet. With a sip, you let him drag you out into the sun. He walked you up to the poolside and stopped at the edge. In the shallow parts of the pool, sitting in the water, were circular cushioned beds with an umbrella situated in the middle of each one. By each beside was a circular stand where drinks could be placed to rest. You stared at, gaping probably, and Joel leaned in toward your ear. “That’s ours too.”

“Seriously?” You asked in surprise. Joel nodded. The urge to ask how much it cost came to mind, but you bit back the words and just grinned instead. Joel walked down the few steps into the shallow water and held your hand to aid you in. “You know,” The cold water came up just past your ankles and you waded with Joel to the daybed reserved for the two of you, “I could get used to this ‘having money’ thing.”

Joel chuckled and dropped down on the bed. He lounged on his back, hands folded behind his head, and stared at you as you settled in beside him. You chose to lay on your belly so you could continue to sip on your champagne.

“Thank you. For all of this.” You said sincerely. Briefly, you chewed on your lower lip then gave a small shrug, “I haven’t had a pool day in nearly a year let alone go on an actual vacation.”

Joel shook his head, “Thank you for comin’ with me, darlin’. You’re doin’ me the favor.”

The two of you just relaxed, letting the heat seep into your skin, and when you were on your last sip of champagne a poolside waitress walked over with a smile to see if the two of you needed any drinks. Joel sat up and ordered two frozen drinks. You chuckled, “You’ve kept a drink in my hand since the moment we landed.” You tilted your head. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to get me tipsy, Joel.”

“Me? Never. I’m a gentleman.” Joel shook his head. He smirked and nodded toward you. “Besides, you’ve already felt me up, and I didn’t even need to get you tipsy.”

Your eyes widened and you reached out to give him a light shove, “I was not ‘feeling you up’. I was saving you from a future of being a leathered, sun shriveled old man.”

“If that’s what you gotta tell yourself.” Joel shrugged.

You laughed and Joel began to lay back down. Before he could get comfortable, you pointed to the umbrella, “Wait, can you close the umbrella?” Joel shot you a confused look as if you were crazy for asking. You shrugged. “I just want some sunshine for a little bit.”

“You’re all the sunshine we need right now.” Joel said and reached out to pinch your cheek.

“That is an adorable excuse.” You spoke despite him pinching your cheek, and Joel chuckled before reaching up to close the umbrella. Bright sunlight immediately rained down on the two of you and the direct warmth on your skin made you beam happily. As hot as it was, you probably wouldn’t be able to stand the sunlight for very long, but it felt nice for the time being.

Joel grunted and rolled over onto his belly so he could keep the sun out of his eyes, “What do you say?” You slid a pair of sunglasses on and laid on your back while humming⏤ pretending to think of what answer he might want. Joel propped himself up just enough to rest one of his arms on your other side so he was leaning over you. You sucked in a sharp breath at his close proximity, and he raised an eyebrow at you. “Manners, sugar.”

“Thank you, daddy.” You cooed.

“Good girl.”

You tightened the fluffy, white robe that the Wynn resort left you in the suite’s bathroom then stepped out fresh and clean, “Joel! I’m done with the shower.” The two of you had stayed out at the pool until it closed. Being out in the hot sun the entire afternoon had wiped you out, but Joel told you to get ready for a night out and you found your second wind. Joel wandered into the bedroom, and you groaned happily, “You’re in for a treat because the water pressure was incredible.”

“I would hope so.” Joel chuckled then his eyes narrowed skeptically. “Do you have bad water pressure in your apartment?”

“Uh…” You paused in thought. You had a feeling that if you confirmed that information then Joel would try to buy you a new apartment or something equally as wild. “...no?” Joel shot you a skeptical glance that made it clear he didn’t believe you. He disappeared into the bathroom, and you quickly called out. “Oh, wait! Pick a color, Joel!”

Without hesitation, Joel replied through the door, “Red!”

Excitedly, you shimmed off the bed to hurry over and dig out the red cocktail dress Joel had bought you for Vegas. Of the newest additions to your wardrobe, the red dress you had picked out was one of your favorites. You wondered if he remembered that. While Joel showered, you pulled out the ironing board to smooth out any of the wrinkles your dress had gotten during transit. It didn’t take much and you were about to put away the iron when you paused. Joel’s suitcase sat near yours in the room. You bit down on your lower lip for a beat before walking over to find a shirt for him.

You picked out a black button up shirt to match the black blazer he had already hung up. The ‘black out’ look on him just seemed like it would be clean and handsome. Not that you could picture many looks not looking incredible on him. The bathroom door opened and Joel stepped out in just a towel. The back of your neck warmed and you tried not to let your eyes linger. Obviously you had seen him shirtless poolside, but this felt more intimate.

“Why don’t you get changed in the bathroom and I can get ready out here⏤” Joel paused and pointed to the ironing board. You finished the last few passes of the iron over his shirt. “Is that mine?”

“Well, it’s not mine.” You replied and picked up his shirt to shake it a bit. You held it out to him with a broad smile.

Joel took the shirt from you and you were acutely aware of his lingering touch on your hand. “This my color for the night, sugar? Black?” You nodded with a wide grin. Joel gave you a nod of confirmation and you scooped up your dress to head to the bathroom. “Alright. Black and red it is.”

You glanced over your shoulder to allow yourself one last look of Joel and seeing the bare expanse of his back made your heart flutter in your chest. The image of it lingered in your mind even after you closed the door. You made the effort to commit it to memory.

It didn’t take you too long to get ready and it was in part due to how eager you were. Joel had been tight lipped the entire afternoon about the plans for the evening. No matter how much you pleaded or begged he wouldn’t even give you a hint. All you knew was that he had an entire night planned for the two of you. Not even accounting for the amount of money involved in all of this, the fact that Joel had the thought to plan a night for you was heartwarming. It was a reminder that your bar was set so low due to your last boyfriend. You had to plan nearly every single trip or date night, and you had convinced yourself you enjoyed it. Tricked yourself into thinking you preferred it that way instead of admitting that it was a problem.

You rubbed your hands down the front of your red dress⏤ smoothing it out and giving you something to do with your nervous energy. You stepped out of the bathroom, expecting Joel to be sitting in the living room waiting for you or on his phone, but your feet faltered at the sight of him sitting on the edge of the bed. Joel ran a hand over his jawline, fingers dragging through his scruff. He stood up and the two of you spent a quiet moment just staring at one another. Just as you knew it would, the black shirt and black suit combo was deadly on Joel. This time you beat Joel to the punch.

“Hot damn, Joel.” You grinned. He cleared his throat and the look on his face could only be described as flustered. Eager to flip the table on him and do what he always did to you, you walked to him and reached out to smooth his lapel, feeling his chest under it, “This is a real good look on you, daddy.”

The sound that left him, almost a choking noise at the back of his throat, made you feel smug. He shook his head slowly and didn’t let his eyes leave you for even a second. “Oh, sugar,” Joel hummed, “I don’t hold a flame to you. I just don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?” You asked.

“How every time I look at you, you somehow get even more breathtakin’.” Joel replied.

Heat rose in your cheeks and crawled up the back of your neck. Damn it all. Every time you think you had the tables flipped he managed to get the upper hand again. You let out a laugh and tried to hide how flustered you felt, “No fair.” Joel smirked as if he knew exactly what you were getting at. You gave his chest a slight push, but he caught your hands to hold them there. You shook your head, “Can you let me have the upper hand just one time?”

Joel breathed out a small laugh, and he opened his mouth to reply. However, he stopped himself and closed his mouth with an amused smile. You tilted your head curiously, but Joel just slipped his hand through yours. “Ready to go?”

“Do I get to know where we’re going now?”

“You’ll find out as soon as we get there.”

“Very funny.”

The same car that drove you from the airport to the Wynn also picked you up. When it came to the Vegas strip, there were some resorts that were within walking distance from where you were located, but Joel’s first plan of the night was not. You stared out the window marveling at the tall buildings covered in gigantic screens showcasing an ad or show. Even the sidewalks had plenty of things to watch. Tourists, showgirls, people performing, and some even dressed up in character suits. There was one rough looking Mickey Mouse the car passed that gave you a look into what the famous mouse’s life would look like if he got deep in the world of hard drugs.

“Oh,” You tore your eyes away from the window to look at Joel who sat beside you in the back of the car with his arm resting on the seat behind you, “Is that where they do that big fountain show?”

Joel nodded, “Bellagio. Yeah. We can stop and watch it later tonight. They do a show every thirty minutes I think.”

The car turned off the strip to a resort that sat just off it by a bit. The Aria. It looked as immense and fancy as any of the other resorts and was even shaped similarly to the Wynn and the Encore. Joel let his hand brush against the back of your neck and you knew he wanted you to stay in place while he climbed out. Seconds later, your door opened and Joel held out a hand to help you climb out.

“What’s so special about the Aria?” You asked.

Joel laced his fingers through yours and pulled you toward the resort doors. The lobby was a large open space with pillars, and your eyes landed on a wave of hand folded origami flowers in a gradient of red, pink, and orange hanging from the glass ceiling. You paused, jaw slightly open as you admired the sight, and Joel just waited patiently. Finally, you tore your eyes away from the origami flowers to look at him.

“We have dinner reservations here.” Joel answered.

You raised an eyebrow at him with a smirk, “We came all the way here just for dinner?”

Joel didn’t give you a reply, and you noticed he looked excited. You squeezed his hand and let him lead you deeper into the resort. In order to get where you were going, the two of you had to walk through the casino and it was fun to see the flashing lights and general buzz of excitement. The air smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, and there were different degrees of yelling and cheering. You were so caught up in your surroundings that you hadn’t noticed Joel and you reached your destination until he came to a stop.

You glanced at Joel who continued to beam at you, and then looked forward to where a simple arch sat with the word ‘CATCH’ written in bright, glowing letters above the top. It was what laid just beyond the arch that had your breath catch in your throat. The arch was the entrance to a tunnel and even from where you stood you could see the entire tunnel was made up of different flowers and glowing lights.

Joel leaned over, his lips close enough to your ear that you could feel his breath fan against your skin, “It didn’t feel right not bein’ able to get you a bouquet of flowers before dinner so I thought I’d just bring you to ‘em.”

You felt a visceral reaction to Joel’s words. Your throat tightened, and a part of you wanted to cry. It took every ounce of your self control to not actually let any tears fall. It was just so sweet and you felt so seen and cared for. “Joel.” You mumbled and turned your head to look at him. He was still lingering close to where he had whispered in your ear which left you dangerously close to his face. You swallowed, “Joel, this is…”

His eyes darted across your features, lingering at your eyes and lips, “Wanna take a closer look, sugar?”

Your face broke out into a face splitting grin and you nodded. Joel hesitated in place, taking in a slow breath, before pulling away so he could drag you through the arch. He let his own steps slow while you continued forward a bit. Your hand fell out of his, but your eyes were taking in the hanging flowers overhead and the colorful walls on either side of you. The air was filled with a sweet, floral scent and a soft, golden glow surrounded the space from the lights buried between the flowers. It took half a beat before you realized Joel wasn’t by your side, and you quickly turned in place to look for him. He stood a few feet back, hands in his pocket, just staring with a small smile on his face.

“What?” You asked with a laugh.

“Nothing.” Joel closed the space.

As soon as he was close enough, you looped your arm through his. The two of you took a few more steps down the wood panel path that led through the tunnel and a portion off to the side curved inward with a long half circle bench nestled against the wall and a wall of pink, orange, and red roses covering that indent of the wall.

“Oh!” You pulled him toward the bench and dropped down there with him beside you. “Can we take a picture?” You pulled your phone out. “Please?”

“I can take your picture for you.” Joel replied.

You shook your head and held onto his arm. “I want you to be in it too.”

Joel looked skeptical for only a moment. He never seemed the selfie kind to you, but he leaned in regardless. You lifted your phone to take a few snaps. Joel had one arm around your shoulders during most of the pictures, but near the end he used his other hand to cup the side of your face to pull him closer. Joel turned and pressed his lips to your temple and you managed to get a few snaps of that as well. Your chest was filled with so much warmth and happiness that you didn’t have the room to feel flustered.

You stood up with Joel and he tugged you to the end of the tunnel where a maitre’d stood waiting. The first part of the restaurant you could see was a large bar surrounded by people. Joel had the two of you pause by the front desk.

“Welcome Miller party.” The maitre’d asked. Joel nodded. “Your table is being cleaned off and prepared now. If you’d like to wait by the bar, your waitress will fetch you soon.”

“Thanks.” Joel dug through his coat pocket and you saw him pull out a few folded bills that he slipped into the other man’s hand. “And thank you for clearin’ the tunnel.”

“Of course, sir.”

It dawned on you then, and you glanced back to see the tunnel was now filled with small parties and couples. “Wait, did you pay him to let us be the only ones?”

Joel shrugged and rather than answer he stepped up to the bar with you by his side and ordered himself a glass of whiskey and your typical drink of choice. He kept one hand on the small of your back while you leaned against the bar. When the drinks came, Joel lifted his glass just high enough to allow you to tap yours against his. He winked as the glasses made contact, “Cheers, sugar.”

You moved to take a sip and your drink had only barely touched your tongue when a waitress came over calling out for Joel. He nodded for you to follow first so he could linger a step behind you with his hand on your waist. The table you were led to was a circular booth and it was one of the few tables decorated in excess. The booth looked like it was nestled inside a large bird cage with a broad open door, and woven between the metal bars were vines and string lights. You slid into the booth, setting your glass on the table to avoid spilling it, and Joel slid in after you.

“Joel, this place is…” You let out a breath, unable to grasp a word immediately, “...amazing. Thank you.”

“Stop thankin’ me for somethin’ I like doin’.” Joel chuckled. He draped his arm on the top of the booth behind you and let his fingers brush lightly against your shoulder.

“You like spending absorbent amounts of money on me?” You teased.

Joel leaned over a bit and lowered his voice, sincerity in his voice, “I like takin’ care of you.” It should probably concern how easily Joel was able to make your temperature rise. Literally all it took was a look, the sound of his voice, or just being in near proximity. He straightened back in his seat. “Now,” Joel picked up his glass and took a quick sip, “Is there anythin’ you always wanted to do while in Vegas?”

You hummed in thought. The fountains had already been mentioned. That seemed like a staple Vegas activity. “I wanna see a show.”

“Already on the agenda.”

“Wait, really?” Your eyes widened. “What show??” Joel just stared at you with a smug smile. You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. It’s a surprise.” You took a sip of your own drink. “I want to gamble.”

Joel chuckled, “Gamble?” You nodded. “Gamble how? Slots or a table game?”

“I want to play the one where you throw dice.”

“Craps.”

“Yeah, that!” You nodded. “Everybody does that while they’re in Vegas, right?”

“Fair enough.” Joel said. “Anythin’ else?”

Another thought came to mind, but it felt kind of silly. “There was this one other thing…”

“Name it, sugar.”

You scrunched your nose. “Can we go on the gondolas? I know it’s probably dumb since it’s not even a real river and it’s just inside one of those big resorts, but I don’t know… It looked kind of fun.”

Joel let out a breathy laugh before dropping his hand so instead of soft brushes he was able to squeeze your shoulder, “We can absolutely ride the gondolas.”

You bounced in your seat, excited, as Joel shook his head in amusement. The waitress came back to discuss the specials of the night. After a quick discussion, Joel ordered for the both of you. It was something you learned early on with the man. He enjoyed leading. Whether it be the obvious thing like paying for everything or having you wait in the car so he could open the door for you or ordering your food and drink for you. Joel just liked being in charge of the relationship and you had no qualms with that. Especially considering how careful and caring he was in the action. He paid attention to you, the things you did or the words you said, in order to take charge accordingly. As sad and pathetic as it was, Joel remembered more about you and your preferences than your ex-boyfriend did at the end of your relationship with him.

Content and at ease, you settled in your seat and let out a soft sigh.

The night went by too quickly for your liking. Dinner, just like everything with Joel, was easy. You had never met someone who made you feel so comfortable, so seen, so fast. And after he treated you to one of the best meals you ever had, the two of you traveled to the MGM resort for the show which turned out to be a show by the name of ‘KA’. Joel said he chose it off the recommendation of one of the business men he’d be working with in the morning, and it had been a solid choice. The show went beyond your expectations and you had already set them pretty high considering it was Cirque du Soleil and in Vegas. Then, rather than take the car, the two of you walked down the strip with your arm wrapped through his. The walk consisted of two stops, one at the fountains to watch the show, and the other at the Venetian resort to ride in the gondolas.

“Joel, this has literally been the greatest night ever.” You gushed while squeezing his arm. The two of you had walked from the Venetian back to the Wynn. His black suit jacket hung on your shoulders after he had given it to you during the gondola ride.

Joel chuckled, “Literally?”

“Yes.” You said. “I am being literal, thank you.”

“Well, sugar, you know me.” Joel lifted one of your hands to press his lips to the back casually. “Always happy to provide.”

He continued to lead you into the resort without even realizing how earth shattering his presence was to you. Joel kept your arm wrapped through his with his hand intertwined with yours and held to his chest. It was such an intimate gesture that he did so casually⏤ as if it were second nature to him. The urge to stop in your tracks and pull him into a kiss was nearly overwhelming. In fact, if you had maybe even one more drink tonight it would’ve been enough liquid courage to convince you. However, anxiety still plagued your mind. Logic tried to reign in your feelings and remind you of all the reasons this was a bad idea. Even if you ignored the nearly two decade large age gap between the both of you, there were still enough reasons for your brain to try and stop you.

If you could quiet your logical and turbulent mind for just a moment, just long enough to allow your heart to act, then maybe these fears and anxieties wouldn’t matter.

The two of you were walking through the casino to get to the elevators that would take you upstairs. You continued to stare while focusing on the circles his thumb was tracing on the back of your hand. God, you wanted this man. If he could make you feel so happy, so good about yourself, in public with innocent touches and glances, you wondered how incredible he could make you feel behind closed doors. You craved his touch, his rough hands grasping at all of you, and you were desperate enough to trade your soul just to feel his hot mouth exploring your skin.

Joel’s eyes suddenly met yours and you sucked in a sharp breath of surprise. Heat flooded your cheeks in embarrassment as if he could hear your sinful thoughts about him. Joel gave you a quick wink and nodded, “One last stop.”

He tugged you off the path that carved through the casino and onto the actual casino floor. The slot machines around you were a sea of colors, flashing lights, and whistling tunes. Servers drifted about bringing drinks to those sitting at the machines, but Joel led you past all of them. The two of you approached the section that had the table games, and you spotted the one with the dice.

“Oh!” You chirped in recognition. “We’re gonna play?”

“You said you wanted to.” Joel countered. The table wasn’t very crowded right now. Save for the casino employees, there was two other people standing around the table playing. You felt a sense of anxiety creep up your spine. You were vaguely aware that the rules for these table games were very strict and there were also unspoken rules of conduct. “Here.” Joel reached toward you and stuck his hand in the inner pocket of his jacket which hung off your shoulders. He fished out a few hundreds that you couldn’t help but stare at. Joel pushed two hundred dollars in your hand. “Just like me, sugar.”

He placed the bills on the table top with his ID card and you hurried to copy him. Between dice rolls, the man running the table pulled your bills toward him and began to prep your chips. You leaned over and whispered, “Joel, I have no idea how to play this.”

“It’s easy.” He reassured you. You glanced at the very confusing green felt covered in different words and numbers then back to him skeptically. Joel chuckled and tapped under your chin with his hand. “I promise.”

Joel began to point out different portions of the table, and between the warm honey tone of his words and the multiple drinks you had throughout the night, you were not following whatsoever. You stared at him, nodding every few seconds, while admiring the lines of his face. People wrote poems and sung praises about blue and green eyes, but you were convinced it was because those people were never blessed with the opportunity to gaze into Joel Miller’s eyes. There was a warmth in the dark color of his irises that felt like coming home after a long day in the cold. Your eyes flickered to a small bare spot in his scruffy jawline that vaguely resembled a heart and you resisted the urge to lean forward and place a kiss right there. Why else would the otherwise perfect man in front of you have that space in his beard if not for your lips?

“You’re not hearin’ a damn thing I’m sayin’, are you?” Joel teased.

You blinked in surprise and watched as his lips stretched into a bright smile, “Uh, I’m listening.”

“Right. What did I just say about the ‘Come bet’?”

“That…it’s… better than a ‘Leave bet’?” You joked.

Joel barked out a laugh and the sound made your stomach flip. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead. You were savoring the feel of his lips on your skin, when he turned you back to the table where a stack of chips were waiting for you. He slid two green chips into the box labeled ‘Pass Line’. You quickly mimicked his actions. Joel scooped up the dice, nodding at the man running the table, and then set them in your hands. “You’re the shooter, sugar.”

“Me?” Your eyes widened in worry.

“7 or 11.” Joel winked.

You took half a second to stand in shock at how your life had brought you to this point right here, and then you dove right in. You tossed the red dice and they bounced across the table before landing on a four and a three. The other two people at the table clapped their hands and Joel gave your elbow a squeeze.

The table slowly began to fill up, and you were a firm believer in the concept of ‘beginner’s luck’. You still only had a vague understanding of the game, but every time it was your time to be the shooter you were on a roll. It was exciting to have strangers cheering you on as well and as time passed you began to get more confident with how you tossed the chips around. Again, your knowledge on the actual rules were scarce, but you were pushing around higher number chips than Joel was. As the man running the table began to prep chips for a new player who settled in beside you, you turned to smirk at Joel.

“I’m doing pretty good.” You motioned to your decent stack of chips.

“Better than me.” Joel smirked.

Your pile was currently larger than Joel’s, but he seemed more concerned in keeping an eye on you than winning back his money. Teasingly, you leaned forward to let your lips linger by his ear, “If I win big, I promise to take care of you, baby.”

Joel laughed loudly and shook his head, “Just roll your dice.” You bounced in place just a bit before throwing the dice across the table. It landed on a total of seven which was not what you needed at the moment and it ended your roll. You groaned with the rest of the table, and Joel leaned into you this time. “Looks like I don’t need to worry none. Disappointed?”

“Nah.” You shook your head and locked your eyes with his. “I like being your sugar.”

“Good.” Joel’s dark eyes lingered on yours before dropping to your lips and bouncing back up. It was enough to make you release a small gasp, and he must have heard the sound because he smirked.

Your elbow suddenly brushed against something behind you, and it broke the spell. Joel leaned back and it was only then you realized how close the two of you had drifted toward one another. You cleared your throat and glanced at the man on your other side, assuming you had bumped into him while getting lost in the tempting vortex that was Joel, “I’m so sorry about that.”

“No, no. No worries, sweetheart.” The man replied. He was probably a few years older than you, if you garnered a guess, and he was decent looking but certainly not anything to write home about. Absolutely plain standing beside someone like Joel. He lifted his hand to your face, making you flinch, and opened his fist to reveal the dice, “Blow me?”

“What?” You blurted in shock.

“Watch it.” Joel snarled from behind you. His chest pressed against your side, and when you glanced over you saw the warmth in his eyes had turned dangerous. Not a comforting flame in the fireplace after a long day, but a raging wildfire licking at the edge of the forest⏤ threatening to destroy. Joel glared at the man and if looks could kill then he’d be struck down by now.

“I’m just talking about the dice.” The guy chuckled. He winked at you, and you blanched in disgust. “Relax.”

The rest of the table, including a few of his friends on the other side of him, began to goad him into rolling the dice. Joel was still stiff, and you set a hand on his forearm in hopes to calm him. Joel’s eyes snapped to yours and you watched the anger simmer. You gave him a reassuring smile. One stupid jerk wasn’t going to ruin the night for you. Joel nodded once and began to move around you. At first, you thought he was going to place himself in between you and the guy, but instead he settled behind you. Joel pressed his chest against your back, setting a hand on your abdomen to pull you closer, and then let his hands fall to the tables’ sides⏤ successfully blocking you in.

You couldn’t even focus on if Joel was still upset because every single ounce of your mind was redirected to keeping your body from spontaneously combusting. His stance around you was dizzying. Protective. Intimate. Possessive. Joel was stamping a claim on you, a warning to the man who accosted you, and you found it extremely attractive. Months ago, you would have firmly stated that you were a strong, independent woman who didn’t want nor need a man that took control or showed any signs of being overprotective. However, you would commit atrocities if it meant hearing Joel call you his.

Joel leaned his head down on your shoulder just enough to whisper, “You alright, sugar?”

Other than possibly going into a heart arrhythmia from his proximity, you were just fine, “Yeah. I’m okay, Joel. Don’t worry.” You felt him nod and then he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck. You audibly gasped, “Oh God.”

“What was that?” Joel asked.

“Nothing.” You blurted. His head was still hovering over your shoulder and you stayed stock still to avoid accidentally brushing any part of you against him. You heard Joel chuckle lightly before he straightened his posture.

With Joel nearly wrapped around your body, it was easy to fall back into ease as the game went on. You weren’t really winning much more money, but you also weren’t significantly losing either. Just bouncing back and forth enough to maintain the same amount of chips. Between that and the feel of Joel’s breaths on your neck, you were ready to call it a night.

You turned your head to speak to him and realized how close he still stood then. Your nose was only an inch or so away from brushing against his jawline. You swallowed the lump in your throat and found the courage to not pull away. “Can we call it a night? Go back to the room?”

Joel turned his head and the slow way his jawline ended up rubbing against the top of your nose softly seemed deliberate. He gave you a small smile and nodded. “Course.” Joel held his position for a beat more before pushing away from you so he could speak to the man running the table. “We’re out.”

You took in a shuddering breath as Joel got the chips converted to the highest amount possible so it’d be easier to carry. Your anxiety had a bad habit of making you overthink and underplay everything against your favor, but even for you it was difficult to ignore Joel’s behavior tonight. He seemed genuinely interested. Nima had encouraged you to chase what made you happy, and Joel made you happy. There was no doubt there. Anticipation began to build in your chest as you hyped yourself up to make a move tonight. You took a chance and said yes to being his sugar baby in the first place.

You just needed to take a chance again.

Joel turned back to you and he slipped a few black chips into his coat’s inner pocket before wrapping his arm around your shoulders to tug you into his side. You mimicked his action, holding yourself close to him, and the two of you only got a few steps away before the same obnoxious voice from earlier wolf whistled behind you.

“Damn, look at that ass.” The guy from earlier stumbled a step closer as his friends behind him tried to reel him back desperately. “How much do you charge a night? I’ll pay double whatever the old man is paying you.”

You stiffened at the words. They hit a little too close to home. You usually were able to easily let the drunk, stupid words of some obnoxious asshole roll off your back. Unknowingly though, the man had dug a knife into an already sore subject in your mind. In your spiraling panic, you didn’t realize the man was reaching for you until Joel was suddenly gone from your side.

Without a word, Joel slammed his fist into the man’s face then grabbed him by the lapels of his sport coat before he could collapse. The man’s friends were trying to stop the attack while calling out apologies, but their attempts were fruitless. Joel lifted the man up off the ground enough to throw him over the edge of the craps table, making chips fly across the green felt as others around the table screamed in alarm, and Joel punched the man twice more before security swarmed the scene.

“Joel!” You cried out and tried to reach him, but a man in a dark suit and badge held you back.

They separated the fight easily and when Joel was pulled back away from the now groaning guy who was still laid up on the craps table, you saw real rage burning in Joel’s dark eyes. You had never seen his features twisted in anger and loathing before. Security dragged the guy off the table and took him and his friends toward the front of the resort while ushering for you and Joel to follow them in the opposite direction. Joel’s eyes snapped to meet yours and you watched as his anger melted into worry and concern. He shoved a security guard out of his way to reach you and one hand shot up to rest protectively on the back of your neck as his eyes scanned your face.

“Hey, are you alright?” Joel asked nervously. Unable to find words, you gave him a meek nod and his shoulders sagged in relief. The lead security guard cleared his throat and Joel kept his hands on you while following after the man. When the small grouping of people reached the edge of the casino floor, Joel spoke up. “That piece of shit better be out on his ass.”

“He has been forcibly removed from our premises and I do apologize for the duress.” The lead security, his badge read ‘T. Gordon’, turned to you with a slight nod. “Are you okay, miss?”

“Oh, uh, I’m fine.” You replied.

“Good.” Gordon focused back on Joel. “As regrettable as this scenario was, fighting is strictly prohibited⏤”

“If you kept assholes like him from gettin’ so wasted then maybe I wouldn’t have had to start nothin’.” Joel snapped. “He was gonna try and touch her.”

“Right, and because of that we will not be restricting your access to the resort.” Gordon said. “That being said, I will have to limit your access to the casino floor. The Wynn has a strict policy. That gentleman will never be welcome on our property again, and you will be suspended for the next three months.”

“Fine. Can we go?”

Gordon motioned for the two of you to wait while he fetched some paperwork for Joel to sign. Your eyes darted down to Joel’s dominant hand, the one not wrapped around your waist, and it was still balled into a tight fist. There was a redness to the knuckles that made you gasp.

“What’s wrong?” Joel’s attention snapped to you in alarm.

You reached for his hand and cradled it in yours, studying the gash and early bruising, “You’re bleeding, Joel.”

“It’s not a big deal.” He tried to pull his hand away, but you held on tighter and he sighed. “Really. Doesn’t even hurt.”

Your thumb brushed the edge of the discoloration and his nose twitched with a slight wince. You shot him a light glare, “Liar.” Joel’s own lips curled into a small smile and you shook your head. “What? Don’t smile at me. I’m worried about your hand.”

“I know.” Joel replied softly. He turned his gaze away from you and his next words fell out in a slight whisper. “It’s cute.”

Gordon returned a second later and you were forced to release his hand so he could sign the paperwork stating he understood his punishment. You were just happy that the police didn’t need to be involved. Joel began to lead you toward the elevators, which weren’t far from where you stood now. It didn’t take long to get to the room, and the moment you stepped through the threshold you pushed him toward the couch to sit. Quickly, you shrugged out of his jacket and fetched a rag to run under cold water.

Joel was slumped in his seat with his head leaning back and his arm draped over to cover his eyes. You sat down beside him, on his left and close enough that your thigh pressed against the side of his, then carefully pulled his arm away from his face so you could take his hand in yours. Joel blinked his eyes open at you while you carefully began to dab at the gash on his knuckles.

“I’m so sorry.” Joel sighed.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I lost my temper.” He shifted so rather than slumped back he was sitting upright. Joel’s fingers wrapped around the hand holding his up while your other continued to clean his injury. “I never wanted you to see me like that.”

“Joel…”

“When I’m around you,” Joel paused and took in a slow breath, “I get to be one of the best versions of myself. Carefree. Happy. That’s what I want you to see. Not angry or grumpy or stressed⏤ Just… I don’t want…”

It seemed he couldn’t find the end of his thoughts. You paused in cleaning his wound to just squeeze his hand in reassurance. “I don’t want just the best of you, Joel. I want to know all of you. Good and bad.” Joel’s gaze softened and the way he stared at you, with blatant adoration even the worst of your anxiety couldn’t deny, made your chest fill with warmth. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“How’d I get so lucky to find you, sugar?” Joel asked quietly.

“Easy.” You offered him a smile and shrug, “You left your wallet at home, daddy.”

Joel laughed and the sound of it felt victorious. You liked being able to cheer him up. A knock at the door made you rise from the couch. Joel tried to stop you so he could go, but you brushed away his hand with a chuckle. At the door, a waiter stood holding a bucket filled with ice and a bottle of wine. You took it from him questioningly and walked back into the living space.

“What is it?”

You read the card tied to the side, “‘Please accept this wine as an apology for tonight’s disturbance.’” Your eyes widened and you stared at Joel in shock. “Seriously? You punch a guy and the hotel apologizes to you?” Joel motioned for you to get closer and you walked over to settle back in the seat you had been in. Joel pulled the bottle from the bucket to read it. “You rich people, I swear.”

“Wow. This is a pricey bottle.” Joel hummed. “I don’t know a lot of wines, but Sarah likes this one. I buy it for her every year for her birthday.”

You scooped up some of the ice to set in the rag, a smile on your features. You always loved hearing details of Joel’s home life. It wasn’t like he was hiding anything from you, he spoke freely about his daughters, but every little detail you learned solidified the image of the doting and loving father Joel truly was. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t an extremely attractive trait of his.

With your makeshift ice pack, you shifted in place so you could settle it on his knuckles. Joel hissed at the cold and set the bottle down. His hand was resting in your lap so neither of you had to hold it up and his close proximity was making your heart race.

“You know,” You chuckled, “Nobody’s ever punched someone to defend my honor, like that before. Is it wrong that I kind of liked it?”

“Not wrong.” Joel shook his head. “But you’ve really never had to deal with an asshole like that before?”

You scoffed with a laugh. “I’ve dealt with assholes like him my whole life. I’m a breathing woman who lives in LA. I can’t walk down the street without getting catcalled or yelled at.”

Joel’s brows furrowed in confusion, “You were datin’ someone before me though, right?” You nodded in confirmation. “He never…?”

“Nathan wasn’t big on violence of any kind.” You shook your head. A memory tumbled out from your lips before you could even stop it. “I got groped once at a bar we went to. Some guy grabbed my chest and Nate scolded him and then the two of them started talking about some baseball game.”

“You’re shittin’ me.”

“Nope.”

Joel muttered under his breath a string of curses. His hand slid to rest on your mid thigh and he gave it a comforting squeeze. “I know technically the answer should be non-violence, so I’m probably the bad guy for sayin’ this, but I would’ve ripped that guy’s head off.” Based on what you saw this evening, you believed him, and still you only found comfort in it. “The world’s a goddamn mess and that kid you dated was a coward for not standin’ up for you. That’s the least a man could do for a woman he loves.” You felt your heart skip a beat at his insinuation. Joel didn’t love you. It was way too soon for him to feel any kind of way close to that, but to hear you were in the group of people he cared enough about to protect still made you feel some kind of way yourself. “Not that women can’t protect themselves.” Joel was near ranting now. “I made sure Sarah and Ellie could hold their own. Basic self defense, teachin’ ‘em how to handle a weapon, a kickboxin’ class here or there. But still… The thought that you got assaulted and your ex-boyfriend just thought to be chummy with the guy pisses me the fuck off.”

There was an edge to his voice, and you could see the haunted look of a past memory lingering in his eyes. You melted into the couch, closer to him, and Joel squeezed your thigh once more. “I’m okay, Joel. Everything is fine, and I’m safe. We’re safe.” You lifted the ice pack just enough to give his skin a break from all the cold. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just…” Joel shook his head. “Bad memory.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Joel hesitated for a moment before sighing, “It was a long time ago. I took the girls campin’. Ellie was fourteen. Just a kid. Not even old enough to drive.” His thumb was tracing a line back and forth against your thigh as he recounted his past. “We were settin’ everything up, I looked away for a minute⏤ just a minute⏤ and she was gone. I left Sarah with Tess, called the cops, then Tommy and I were tearin’ apart the woods lookin’ for her.” Joel carried a tension in his shoulders as he spoke and you leaned in closer to him to offer physical reassurance without interrupting him. “I heard Ellie scream. That sound… it’s carved into my very soul. I’ll never forget it. I found her in this beat up RV by the lake. Some sick son of a bitch had snatched her and was tryin’ to…” Joel locked his jaw. Silence settled between the two of you for a moment. Your heart ached for him and it ached for his daughter. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the horror. Joel shook his head finally. “Ellie’s a fighter. She always has been. Arguably to a fault.” He let out a sad chuckle at the praise, but it faded. “She had clawed his face up, broke his finger, hell, she even managed to bite off the upper part of the bastard’s ear… Ellie held him off, and I got there in time. When I saw him though…” Joel squeezed your thigh and this time he didn’t let up. “God, I saw red, darlin’. Ripped him off her and nearly killed him. I would’ve except I heard Ellie cryin’ and I stopped to grab her. Cops showed up around then. Sick bastard was lucky it was the cops and not Tommy. Tommy wouldn’t have stopped me. Not for that.”

“She’s okay? Ellie?” You asked softly.

“Yeah. She’s strong. Stronger than me even.” A flash of pride filled his features while praising his daughter’s strength, “She got that from her mom.” You knew that Joel wasn’t related to Ellie by blood. He had shared that bit of information with you early on when he first told you about his daughters. That was all you knew of the fact though. You didn’t know how Joel knew Ellie’s mom or how she came to be adopted by him. “Since then though, I’ve always had a hair trigger for that kind of shit. More so than I used to. Just brings up bad memories.”

“I could only imagine.” You replied. “I’m so sorry, Joel.”

“No need for you to be.”

“Still…” You searched for something to say, but there were no words that came to mind. Instead, you rested your head between his shoulder and chest. Joel responded by letting the arm draped on the couch behind you wrap around your own shoulders as his right hand continued to reach across his lap and rest on your thigh. Softly, you spoke, “Sarah and Ellie are lucky to have you.”

Joel gave a small shake of his head, “I’m lucky to have them.”

“Well, then,” You lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze and gave him a tight lipped smile, “I’m lucky to have you.”

“Wrong again.” Joel chuckled and there was a softness in his eyes as he studied your features.

That didn’t feel true to you. It had been so long since you felt protected to this degree. For literal years, you only had yourself to rely on. Of course you always had Nima and Henry at the bake shop, they’d move mountains for you, but the thought of bothering them kept you from ever wanting to ask for too much. However, when Joel took care of you, it never made you feel like a burden. It felt like you could breathe fully and freely for the first time in a long time⏤ as if the concrete blocks once tied to your ankles were gone and you could now stretch your wings and be yourself.

Your gaze found its way to his lips before bouncing back up to his eyes. The plan had been to gain the courage to close this gap and share that physical intimacy with him, but the two of you seemed to find a different kind of intimacy altogether. You leaned in and rather than kissing him like you had been craving all night, you lightly set your lips against his jawline, in that same spot you had admired earlier in the night, and then laid your head back on his shoulder. You curled in closer into him and Joel wrapped around your once more as if it were simply natural to do so.

“You’re a good man.” You mumbled and listened to the steady thrum of his heart under your ear.

You felt Joel suck in a sharp, shaky breath and hold it. Eternity seemed to pass before he slowly breathed out. Joel turned his head, you could feel him moving, and he pressed a kiss to your hairline⏤ lingering there with his lips to your skin as he mumbled, “No, sugar. I’m really not.”

There was an underlying tone to his words you didn't recognize, but there was nothing that could convince you otherwise of your beliefs. You were lucky to have Joel in your life, and he was a good man.

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